

### Kitties from the Blog

### (starring Evie aka Eve of Destruction)

### By

### Angela Verdenius

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 Angela Verdenius

Cover images courtesy of © flavijus | istock

Cover by Angela Verdenius

Smashwords License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

**Table of Contents**

Foreword

Evie Strikes Again

Evie Again

Evie, Sterilisation and Plotting

Painting and the Furries

Put to Bed by the Cat

Angry Abby, Evil Evie and Box Girl - the Furries

Evie & Our Boarder

Happy New Year - and it Comes with a Meow & a Spit

Kitty Awwws & Catch Ups

What Evie Did Next

The Abandoned Kittens

Catch Up With Evie and Polly

This and That

Evie - Mini-Mum & Mayhem

So, Evie

Evie 'Boss Cocky', Evie's Vaccination & Polly's New Spot

Cats Still Rule

The New Cat Climber, Scratchy, Platform Thingies Caper

What They did Next

Drama Queens

The Great Food Debate & Furry Visitors

Let the Fights Begin

After Word

Bio

Other Books by this Author

Foreword

I know - really, stories from my - Cats, Books & Life blog? But let me assure you, there is a reason!

Evie (aka Eve of Destruction) came into my mother's and my life as a cute, big-eyed baby torti & white kitten of around five weeks old, sitting in the hand of a little boy. He told us that he found her under a shed on the other side of town but due to circumstances, he wasn't allowed to keep her. So we took her to find her a good home. We quickly came to several conclusions:

1. I'm pretty positive the little boy came to us as his first stop, as we are kind of known for taking in kitties.

2. I'm pretty sure he knew we'd be a sucker for her.

3. Evie never left us and has stayed, creating havoc in the household ever since.

4. Evie thinks she's Boss Cocky.

5. God knew He was on to a good thing with us - we were the only dummies dumb enough to let her stay and love her to pieces, regardless of the havoc she creates.

We were doomed from the start. But who could blame us? Get a look at this sweetie! Please note the crazy eyes. Notice them? Yep, we were doomed from the start...

So there's Evie.

Now, she's not the only fur-baby in our house. There are other cats that caught our hearts and came to live with us forever. There's even a dog (poor bugger). Since I started the blog about 4 years ago, some of our old furries have gone to the Rainbow Bridge and are waiting for us there. We've had a lot of rescue kittens and a couple of rescue cats pass through on their way to new homes.

When I started a blog I wanted it to be a fun blog, one where I didn't talk about my books all the time. Instead, I wanted to share in the fun of our furries, and rant about a few things. I found kindred spirits out there, people who loved reading about my cats as much as I liked writing about them, people who had their own fur babies both cats and dogs. Many of them enjoyed reading about the antics the cats get up to (namely Evie), but most of all, Evie has sprung up as a favourite. Yes, this extremely naughty, opinionated, big-eyed furry has featured in most of my blogs, mainly because she's usually at the centre of the problems.

I was at a book signing in Fremantle, sitting there trying not to look as self-conscious as I felt, when this lady walked past, took a second look at my name placard, pointed and called out "Evie!" Yep, she's famous!

So I thought I'd compile the entries featuring the cats in a book, so anyone who wants a first dose of them can read it page by page, and those game enough to have a second go at reading the furries' antics can, well, have another go.

Enjoy!

Cheers

Ang

Evie Strikes Again

Evie...aka Eve of Destruction... has discovered that if she gets onto the back of a wooden chair, there's SOMETHING on the other side! Her mission, while on the chair, is to get that SOMETHING. How the heck she manages to stay on the back of the wooden chair is a mystery. She wobbles, slips and slides, and generally lives very dangerously. It's also very dangerous for anyone unlucky enough to be sitting in the chair when Evie is after SOMETHING, because to prevent herself from slipping, she'll grab onto the poor sod sitting there. My, that's always fun. Nothing like a little screaming to liven the place up a bit.

So here's Evie, getting that SOMETHING on the other side of the chair. Look closely, I'm sure you'll figure out what the SOMETHING is... her tail

Her next thing is helping with the shopping. As we all know, cats LOVE to help with the shopping. She's in and out of the bags like nobodies business (which brings me to the little fact that she doesn't know how to mind her own), and we usually end up picking things up off the floor. Helpful little thing, isn't she?

And oh my gosh...the fight to get the Diet Coke cans out of the box into the 'fridge. Yes, Evie must help with that as well. I'm trying to get my hand into the little opening of the box, and she's trying to get her furry body into it at the same time. As soon as she manages to squeeze inside the box, it's a 'snatch and grab' effort on my part to get my hand in, retrieve a can of Diet Coke,and withdraw with my hand intact and a can in it. It's rather like sticking my hand into a pond full of piranha fish. I certainly get enough bites and scratches!!! Oh yes, we do like the Diet Coke time, it's done with glee on her part, and lots of yelling and swearing on mine (and laughing, okay, I'll admit the laughing).

But the day isn't finished yet. Evie also likes to swarm up on top of things, such as the door, where she balances on the top of it (yes, the narrow bit) and screams for help. This now involves getting a chair, lugging it through the house to wherever she's now stuck, and getting up to rescue her. She watches eagerly, reaches out for us, we lift her down - and do we get a snuggle for our help? NO! No, Evie is too busy racing off to cause mayhem elsewhere! Another favourite place to get stuck is on top of the cat carry cages at the VERY TOP of the cupboard. Yes, she has to swarm up the fly wire door to do it, but do it she will...and get stuck. And scream. And we go lugging the chair through the house AGAIN to rescue her AGAIN. There is a chair permanently in the back room now, just for rescuing Evie.

You'd think she'd be done by now, but no. She has added a few little things to really brighten our days a little more. She has discovered the toothbrush. Does she play with it? Only when you're trying to brush your teeth with it. It's really disconcerting to be brushing away at your teeth, and then have this kitten loom up beside you, eyes fixed on the toothbrush. It's even more disconcerting when she decides to get the brush by putting her paw in your mouth. Yes, YOUR MOUTH. HER PAW. IN YOUR MOUTH! Need I say more?

Let's add a touch more here, so you know what happens in bed. Evie loves my Mum. Mum is her Granny, and she loves - adores - her Granny. She sleeps with her, looks lovingly at her in bed, pushes her cute little head in Granny's face so Granny can kiss her goodnight and good morning. She also puts her paw in Granny's mouth when Granny yawns, in case Granny forgets to put her hand over her mouth. Granny never forgets now. Funny how a furry paw in your mouth when you're yawning sort of makes you remember to cover your mouth. I always thought it was to good manners, and to keep flies out. Turns out it's good manners and to keep Evie's paw out. Always learning something...

Is it any wonder Evie gets a little tired after a day of tormenting us? Keeping us amused? Having a ball and full of life? Even kitties get tired and need a snooze and a little love!!!

Evie Again

You would think that in a household full of cats and 2 dogs, that the other furries would get their own mention a bit more frequently. But Evie struck once again...

She has developed this great new trick. She does it every time she sees one of us in a place she'd like to check out. This great new trick involves leaping up your back and clawing her way onto your shoulder. Forget the normal screams, they've escalated to blood-curdling. It's pretty impressive if you're _not_ the recipient of the climb.

Evie usually lies around, waiting for something to happen. Maybe I should change that to Evie LURKS around, waiting for something to happen, and if it doesn't, she'll make it! Here she is, lying near one of Mum's statues, watching for something - anything - to happen...

Mum decided it was time to clean the cupboards. Evie was ecstatic. Finally, something to explore!

But, she needed better ground, so as you can guess, she went looking for the highest spot. The next couple of hours were spent with blood-curdling screams from Granny(my Mum, Evie's Granny) as Evie jumped up her back and clawed her way to the top, and calls for help from Granny to get the cat off her!

Here's Evie helping Granny while she's on the ladder cleaning out the top of the cupboard.

Of course, in between when things get really boring, Evie can check out the fish tank. The fish tank that she's been told to STAY OFF! Of course, STAY OFF to Evie means it's something so good that she just HAS to do it, and do it she will. In front of you. No shame, I tell you, no shame at all. So I caught her in the act. And did she care? No. In fact, she knocked off the toy tiger we put up there to stop her getting onto the fish tank lid (like we thought that was going to do the trick? poor, deluded fools that we are).

So I'm sorry to spring this on you, people, but here's the evidence of the guilty furry, caught red-handed.

No, she was not ashamed of being caught red-handed, but instead wrestled the toy tiger all over the kitchen floor and tried to rip its throat out, savage cabbage that she is...

So as you can see, Evie had another busy day. And as with all busy days, there is a time to rest. So in true, unashamedly & with no remorse style, Evie went for a rest in Granny's arms. Awww...doesn't she look so innocent??? But still alert <g>...that's Evie, always looking for something, even when 'resting'!

Evie having a rest in her beloved Granny's arms.

Evie, Sterilisation and Plotting

So, a late entry. Something I promised myself was never going to happen. Geez, that didn't take long, did it?! But I have my reasons, honestly! A few things have happened here, but today, let me fill you in on the main one.

Eve of Destruction, of course. (You really expected anything else? Seriously?)

Firstly, Evie was sterilised last Friday. Yes, the deed was done, and apparently not too soon. When I picked her up, my vet informed me that Evie looked like she'd been coming on heat. Hussy. Ye gods, that sweet, innocent, darling little - oh, who am I kidding? The little harlot was coming onto heat!

Now I admit I was a coward. I organised the whole thing so that I came off night shift at the hospital and only had time to race home, pick up Evie, and take her straight to the vet. Yes, I made Mum do the nasty deed of fasting Evie and listening to her meowing piteously from the bedroom that "Everyone has forgotten me and I'm so alone and unlooooooooved! And starving!" Yes, I admit to being a coward and underhanded. (Boo, hiss) BUT _I_ had to do the deed! I had to take the poor frightened baby to the vet in the car, and when we got there she was shaking and cringing and trying to hide under the towel. She kept looking at me as though to say "But I'm not allowed outside! I want GRANNY!"

I felt so low. I kissed and cuddled her at the vet before they took her away, and then I went home feeling lower than a slug's belly (and let me tell you, that's low). I didn't sleep well, waiting for a phone call that would bring bad news (I hate any of the furries going under anaesthetic), but low and held, there was sunshine instead! The call to say Evie was fine and could come home.

Poor baby! I picked her up along with some pain prevention medication and took the angel home. She rubbed the side of her face against my fingers through the bars of the cage while I cooed and oohed and baby-talked to the widdle angel. "Who's Mummy's angel? Who's the widdle darling, den? Tum and wub my finger. Dere dere, widdle baby." Etc etc.

Evie's stitches...yes, she's trying to chew up the macramé owl on top of the bathroom cupboard...*sigh*

Got home, fed the angel, watched her take an experimental munch on a stitch and then wash herself...and then right before my eyes, it morphed. The widdle angel disappeared and Eve of Destruction was back with a vengeance. She took off like a shot and ran wild through the house, leaping over Lily, racing across the sofa, hiding under the blanket to leap out and scare the living daylights out of Theo. "Frightened the life out of me," he said, as he crawled back under the blanket and sulked.

This kitten never looked back. She kept jumping and falling off the kitchen bench while I was preparing dinner, she leaped straight up the pantry to the top, she jumped from the sink to the 'fridge...Evie was back full force, no 'beg-your-pardons' or 'I feel a little ill, think I'll rest'. Oh no, Eve of Destruction was back!

Evie helping - no scratch that - Evie into everything as usual!

It's now Tuesday and the little villain has been trying to implicate me in her latest planned crime. Yes, you heard right. She's trying to make me her accomplice. I know you're shocked, but let me explain...

We're currently in the middle of having the house painted (hence the reason why this is the first time I've managed to get to the computer and internet), and so saying, our dining room table and chairs are in the middle of the lounge. Evie thinks this is great, because she has been sitting on the table eye-balling the top of the lounge room cupboards - "'Cause there're vases and flowers right at the very top, you know!" she says, eyes bright and nose pink and whiskers quivering in excitement.

I do know. I also know she hasn't been able to get up there yet. However, when I sat down to have breakfast, she about busted her stitches trying to get onto my shoulder to leap up to the top of the cupboards. I spent the whole time I was eating with one hand warding her off while trying to scoff down my cereal without choking. The little villain was determined to use my shoulder as her launching pad. She was going to make me her accomplice in her planned crime! She is a villain, I tell you, a villain! I know her other plan. I'd get the blame, being the big human and everything, after all, a widdle angel like her couldn't get up on the big cupboard unless I'd helped her.

Sterilised and looking for trouble...be afraid, be very afraid...

I just have to be wary of what Eve of Destruction is plotting next...

Painting and the Furries

I know, I know! The idea of painting the inside of the house + cats and dogs is enough to make most furry owners shudder.

Our friend has been helping us to paint the inside of our house, a project that has badly needed doing for about three years but which, alas, kept getting pushed back in favour of paying other bills. But finally the time came!

Several big hurdles faced us:

1: The Colours. Oh my gosh, the d****d colours! Every colour we looked at became a different shade in a different light. I'd come home with a nice, light shade, only to put it against the wall and realise it was the same shade. But take it out into a different light and it was almost colourless. ARGH!!!! Freaking me out, people!

And what ever happened to colour charts that simply had a wide range of colours in differing shades? Most colour charts had pictures of rooms done in these eyeball-straining (for us, anyway, we're pastel lovers) colours. Let me clue you in, our house is a small 3 bedroom, 1 bathroom affair, and rather dark on the inside due to having wide verandas and a back room built on. The colours we originally painted years ago we thought were light, but they are still too dark. So Mum and I decided this time around we'd paint with much lighter shades. What a drama! By the end of twenty minutes, I'd lost interest and every colour looked the same to me. However, praise God, we finally had some pretty pastel colours picked out.

So our friend and I went to the paint store and bought everything we needed and came back home. That should have been that, but no. The second big hurdle was facing us. Facing us with furry faces and big eyes.

2. The Furries. Yes, people, to the shock and horror of the furries, they were shut out into the back room while the painting was started.

KITTY PILE IN THE BACK ROOM

"Abandoned!" sobbed Theo, as he curled up into a little ball (well, as little as a big boof like him can) on the backroom sofa.

"Unloved!" wept Tori, curling up on a big cushion.

"Left with nowhere to go!" Fleur was heartbroken as she wandered through the backroom, onto the back veranda, down the tunnel and into the cattery.

The dogs, Leo and Pixie (Mum's Pekingese) were devastated that they were locked in the back yard ALL DAY. For THREE DAYS STRAIGHT. Yes, they came onto the back veranda at night and had their little fleecy jackets put on, and were shut into their side of the back veranda where their kennel is, nicely fitted out with a thick cushion and several blankets. But they didn't have their usual daily time in the house. CRUEL!!!! CRUEL OWNERS!!!!

PIXIE

LEO

Let me clue you in again. The back room has a three-seater sofa, a big table with a big cushion on it, and several kitty igloos. And a big scratchy post. The back veranda has an old cane sofa on it. The cattery has big cushions and igloos in it. Yes, very hard done by, the cats. And the dogs with their jackets and cushions and kennel and blankets. The cats often choose to sleep in the back room during the day and night, at different times, so it's no big deal. Really! But because the door between the main house and the back room is shut, and they HAVE to stay out there - oh, the humiliation of it all!!

Evie sobbed while pressing her little face against the back fly-wire door. Granny didn't love her anymore and who the HELL was that strange man in our house? And look at all that STUFF! (It didn't matter that every time our friend looked at her, she took off to hide. Going to eat her, he was, she informed us.)

Lily was beside herself and cried piteously at the back door, her big eyes so sad and fixed on me every time I checked on the furries.

DT informed me, most gravely and sweetly, that she was seventeen years old and in renal failure, so surely we didn't mean to lock her out?

Suffice it to say, we let DT and Lily sleep in the front room, which wasn't being painted yet. No way on this earth were we letting Eve of Destruction in, we're not that insane yet. The others, well, they were big kitties and could put up with it.

ABBY - NOT IMPRESSED

It was even more fun when we realized that the gloss paint for the skirting boards and door frames wouldn't be dry until at least midnight. Having the cats loose in the house would end up, at the very least, with fur stuck to the frames and cats with white paint all over them. There was no way we could force the cats to sleep in the back room, because we wouldn't get any sleep with them letting us know how DEVASTATED they were, so Mum ended up with some in her room, I had some in my room, and some slept in the front room. I had cramp from contorting in bed while the cats curled against me quite happily, nattering to each other that wasn't this nice to be with mummy again?

We went through this for about three days before our friend, due to some personal issues, had to stop for awhile. When he's free to return and continue, we have to go through the whole thing again. Oh joy.

Oh yes, before I forget. Evie has recovered well from her operation, and I took her stitches out yesterday. She was amazingly good while I did it, too (probably because she was half asleep on the bed. I'm not that stupid that I'd try to remove her stitches while she's wide awake). The whole operation never affected her. In fact, it was as though she never had the op at all. To give you an idea, I was in the bathroom waxing my underarms (okay, that's a little personal, but I'm trying to make a point here. Let's not be squeamish or shy) with cold strips (no, we don't own a microwave, so no warm wax for me). You'd think that'd be painful enough, and let me tell you, it FREAKIN' IS, but not as painful as glancing down to see Evie watching wide-eyed, her bum wiggling as she readied herself to leap onto my shoulder to see what I was doing.

All you could hear was "No Evie! No! Stay Back! STAY BACK! NO! MUM!!!!!"

Just another minute in our lives...

Put to Bed by the Cat

I know, what a title for this entry. 'Put to bed by the cat?' you ask incredulously. This is so, and it was I who was put to bed by one of my cats. I didn't even know it was happening until the second day!

Firstly, to clue you into things, my mother has to put Evie to bed. I kid you not. Evie likes to have a nap during the day, but refuses to have it until my mother (her beloved Granny) lies down for her nanna nap. So Mum gets Evie and they both lie down, and after about 30 minutes Mum gets up and Evie continues sleeping. Even when Evie was a little kitten, Mum had to lie down with her for about 10 minutes until Evie fell asleep, otherwise, no matter how tired Evie was, she wouldn't go to bed. So Mum literally put the kitty to bed. That hasn't changed.

So how the heck did the cat start putting me to bed? It still boggles my mind.

Lily has always been more my cat than Mum's (just as Evie is more Mum's cat than mine). She often sleeps with me. Well, last week I ended up working two nightshifts at the hospital, and so saying, I'd come home about 7:45 - 8am, have a nice warm shower and go to bed. Darling Lily would be waiting for me, and she'd hop up and cuddle down next to me. When I awoke, there she'd be. So as you can see, I had not a clue as to what was really happening. It was only the second day that I found out, quite by accident, that Lily was putting me to bed. Because of a comment I made to Mum, this, I found out, was what Lily was doing when I worked nightshifts and slept during the day...

I'd come home, have a shower, she'd be waiting for me, and we'd both hop into bed, have a cuddle and go to sleep. Once I was asleep, Lily would hop off the bed and go and snooze on Mum's bed, then, just before I woke up, she'd hop back into my bed and cuddle up, so when I awoke, there she was.

I WAS PUT TO BED TWO DAYS IN A ROW BY MY CAT! How humiliating...or cute...or downright funny!!!

Needless to say, while I spent two days this week sick in bed, the cats thought it was great and piled on. I was in a kitty pile. Felt rather like a sick kitten in-between the litter...

Evie has been up to her usual shenanigans. I caught her on camera trying to catch the fish in the fish tank while I was cleaning it. PROOF!!!!

She's also got this running up our backs firmly entrenched in her over-working mind. It gets worse, though - I know, what a surprise - I was in the shower the other morning, and Evie was playing around on the other side of the shower curtains as usual, when suddenly I heard this war cry 'WAAUGH!' and I caught this glimpse of a flying torti & white (the US calico & white) flying through the air, and I sort of screamed a little 'WAAUGH!' because somewhere in the primitive part of my mind I knew I was under attack, and I jerked my arm up with the towel half draped across it (thank God) and within a blink, there she was - Evie balancing on the length of my arm as I held it slanted in the air. Big eyes (both mine and hers), and both a little astounded.

Mum thought it hilarious. Really, I get no sympathy. Evie got a kiss and cuddle from her Granny and I got zilch. Go figure.

Evie has also been pushing her luck with the big cats. She has got a very strong, dominating personality (gee, ya think?), and she's been muscling onto the big cats. Three of them boxed her ears at separate intervals yesterday, and today - I mean, really, who would do such a dumb thing? - Evie tried to muscle in on Da Polly, and NO-ONE muscles in on Pollyanna. Polly swore at her, promising DIRE results, and Evie took off like a rocket.

So that's pretty much what has happened here lately. Our usual, quiet time...

Angry Abby, Evil Evie and Box Girl - the Furries.

I thought you might like to know what the furries have been up to. I have to say, most of them have behaved themselves, there's just been a few hiccups.

Firstly, Abby **.** Abby is fluffy and fat, I admit this. She takes after me, only I'm not fluffy. Unfortunately, Abby has a worse temper than me, and little patience when I try to clean UNMENTIONABLES off her furry bottom. Yes, people, she had dags on her fluffy bottom and back britches. I tried to wash these icky things off and the result - got sworn at by Abby. I tried to brush them off and the result - scratched and sworn at by Abby. So I enlisted Mum's help (poor, innocent woman...) and a good towel and the result - bloodshed.

You can see it wasn't my best idea.

So I ended up taking Abby to the vet to have her bottom and back legs shaved. Yes, she had to be sedated, and I don't think it was a pleasant time for the vet or nurses involved while she was being sedated. But she came back looking great, or as great as a cat can with a bald bum and inside back legs. Okay, it was funny, but I had to hide my laughter or risk being clawed to death in her indignity.

Abby: "I'm not impressed. NOT IMPRESSED!!!"

Now Abby has a cold bum when she sits on the floor, no hair to stop the chill of the tiles you see. Boy, was Abby royally cheesed off with me and everyone else. She swore and picked a fight with two of the other cats (most unfortunate) and snarled at me every time I got near her. I was NOT her favourite person anymore!

To make matters worse, it was pointed out to me by my vet nurse that Abby has put on 2 kgs. Yes, I am a bad mother! Abby had lost 2 kgs on her last diet sessions, but due to letting things slide, yes...she has put it back on. In fact, I was informed that she had put more on than she previously weighed at her heaviest.

Which supports my theory that dieting is bad for you 'cause it makes you put on weight!!!!!

So now Abby is back on the diet biscuits, though...hey, as a good friend pointed out (waving to Rhonda) you can't start a diet until a Monday, 'cause we all know Mondays are the start of diet days! (And you spell diet DIE with a T).

So one angry kitty in Abby.

Secondly, Polly. Polly (full name Pollyanna) is Abby's daughter. She has become Box Girl. Yes, Box Girl.

The Box Girl has found a new fad, aka the Box. This is a very small Box which she squashes her ample little body into, and then sits there peering around. Box Girl thinks she looks quite the pretty and mysterious kitty. She loves this Box. She loves it so much that she slept in it outside on the back veranda...in the cold. Mum and I thought she'd come in out of the cold, but no, Box Girl said she couldn't leave her Box, it was the Best Box Ever and she was going to stay in it FOREVER.

Good grief, she meant it, too. Mum had to take her food out to her the next morning and put it on the little table beside the Box, and only then would Box Girl get out of the Box and eat the food. Beside the Box. And the Box Girl went back into her Box and stayed there all day.

Polly aka Box Girl - in the Best Box Ever!

I kid you not. Box Girl had an unhealthy obsession with that Box. I even had to bring the Box into the house with Box Girl inside it, because she refused to leave the Best Box Ever and I was worried she'd end up a frozen Box Girl. (It's cold Down Under)

Anyway, Box Girl was a little perturbed but she went with the flow. As long as she was in her Box, she was a happy Box Girl. Then came the day that Mum, while Box Girl was using the litter tray, accidentally put the Best Box Ever into another box while she was cleaning, and Box Girl didn't like that. Oh no, the Best Box Ever was now CONTAMINATED and that was that - she couldn't ever go in the No-Longer Best Box Ever. Homeless, the formerly known-as Box Girl had to resort to sleeping on the bed once more.

Life is cruel.

Thirdly, Evie. Come on, did you really think Evie wasn't going to get a mention in the not-well-behaved section? Seriously???

Evie tormented me the other day. Yes she did. I was in the shower, and while drying myself, I looked up and there she was on top of the cupboard eyeballing me and bracing herself on the edge of the cupboard, getting ready to leap at me over the curtain rail.

I was very calm. "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Mum came hurrying to see what was up and Evie, spotting her beloved Granny, fell onto her side on top of the cupboard and proceeded to roll around looking all cute.

As soon as my mother left the bathroom, there was Eve of Destruction, aka Evil Evie, perched on the edge of the cupboard, eyes all big and black, backside wiggling as she prepared to leap.

"MUUUUUUUUUUUM! Mum, Help! HELP!"

Mum comes running and Evil Evie flops onto her side, so that by the time her beloved Granny comes through the door, Evil Evie is looking all sweet and cute and rolling around going, "look at me! Aren't I the sweetest little baby?" Which is just what her granny said, too.

Evie: "It's all lies. I'm innocent!"

Mum left again. By now I was starting to laugh, and looking back on it, it had a touch of hysteria to it. Mainly because Evil Evie was back to stalking me again. I had the towel up, yelling and laughing and getting a little hysterical, and finally - FINALLY - Mum caught her in the act and rescued me by catching Evil Evie and taking her out of the bathroom.

I kid you not. I had to be rescued from a half grown cat. I am so embarrassed...

And that's not the last of Evil Evie. Oh no, she had more in store for me. If it's not enough that I have to dodge her when I'm brushing my teeth, otherwise I'll end up spitting toothpaste on her head while she's looking down the plug-hold, but I was trying to trim my fringe and...yes, I know, how stupid am I for not shutting the bathroom door? There was Evil Evie, up on the cupboard and placing herself right ion front of my face, effectively blocking the mirror and sniffing my hair and giving her opinion on the whole subject. I think she was trying to supervise me, because she was really interested, so here I am, supposedly getting ready for work, trimming my hair, unable to see the mirror thanks to a certain little furry body in the way, and trying to avoid trimming a set f whiskers that kept poking themselves into my eye as Evil Evie investigated the job I'd already done.

How that fringe ever stayed straight I have no idea, though I'm still finding the odd long bit whenever I comb it...

So basically, that's a bit of a catch-up so far. Most of the furries have been behaving themselves and I always get a little worried about that, it's like waiting for a storm to hit. I'm watching the build-up. You never know when it's going to blow!

Theo: "See what I have to live with?"

Evie and Our Boarder

So, members of my family have gone away for holidays, and their sweet little cat, Bella, is boarding with us. Bella is only about 7 months old, and seeing as Evie has just turned 12 months old, Mum and I thought it would be good company for Evie to have another young cat/older kitten around.

We are so stupid.

Firstly, Bella is a Russian Blue, and she's whip thin and lanky and grey and has the sweetest nature. We were told, quite seriously, that she's a good, quiet girl, and doesn't jump on anything or run up fly wire doors or windows, or climb onto people.

I'm not sure how far Evie's warped nature reaches out, maybe it wafts from her like invisible smoke, I don't know, but some strange things have happened since Bella came to stay.

Her family left after the first night Bella was here, so the second night, of course, there was no family to entertain her (apart from boring old Mum and me). So Bella sat at the fly wire door and gazed out into the passage. Evie, goggle-eyed, sprawled in front of the door, and I think that's when her aura snaked through the fly wire and struck Bella. Within seconds, Bella, the 'never climbed a fly wire door - EVER' was up the fly wire door and yelling.

Now this had to be a record. The record has since been broken. Bella came on Friday last week, and since then she has been up every fly wire door in the house and perched on top of a) the fly wire doors and b) the wooden doors. It's all great fun.

Evie followed her around with her bottom lip dragging sulkily on the floor when she wasn't growling Death Threats at Bella. All seemed okay.

How gullible we are. Stupid, stupid, cat owners *shaking head at self*.

Bella-Who-Never-Climbs-On-People was up my back and onto my shoulder, 'and wasn't that just fun?' she meowed in my ear. I rather thought it cute, but I'm a little worried at how my relatives' nice, quiet little cat is starting to turn.

Evie skulked around, obviously not impressed that the Skinny Interloper was not only scaling HER doors, but was now jumping on HER humans. Everyone knows the humans in this house are there just for HER. It's all about HER, you know, all about EVIE.

The last straw came when I was at the computer happily typing away and Bella came waltzing in and jumped on my lap. Then onto my shoulder.

"You really shouldn't be up there," I cooed. "Little Bella, wookums shouldn't do dat, no, wookums get into trouble when she goes home, won't she? Aunty Angie must be stwict, yes I must, yes I must! I - _(*^%$@!"_

Now, I know you're confused. One minute I'm doing the baby-talk thing with Bella (who was really impressed, because she was nattering back at me), the next all Hell broke loose as Evie came up from behind and under (rather like a furry Jaws) and swiped Bella, reaching up and _wham!_ Bella dug into my shoulder and used my elbow as a catapult, while Evie tried to claw her way angrily onto my lap to get the Skinny Interloper Once and For All!

So they took off, Evie's tail all puffed up like a toilet brush, and Bella a grey streak.

So I sat there, bleeding out onto the floor and watching my life flash before my eyes, and once again I marvelled at how Evie is such a strong-willed cat. My my my, she is so strong-willed. All the other cats are content to either give Bella a warning hiss to stay her distance, or simply ignore her, but not Evie. Oh no. Evie has to brand her Humans. I may wear those claw scars for the rest of my days.

Tonight, Evie is happy to just stalk Bella. And strut around the house - strut strut strut - because it's HER house, HER territory, HER humans. It's all HERS. It all belongs to EVIE!

Evie, however, wasn't impressed when I, upon noticing her tail bristling like a porcupine, quickly grabbed her and trimmed her claws. She yelled and sulked while Mum held her, but at least one thing will go the way I want it to tonight. I won't be bleeding out or watching my life pass before my eyes!

A week later....

Well, people, miracle of miracles, Evie is now playing with Bella. A true Christmas miracle. Evie only goes nuts at Bella when Bella dares to go on Granny's bed, because after all, Granny belongs to Evie, not Bella. Bella's cool with that, she comes onto my bed and fossicks around before going back into the front room and sleeping on top of the cupboard. So all is well, and just in time for Christmas!

Happy New Year - and it comes with a Meow & a Spit

So Happy New Year to everyone! I hope it's started off well for you all. It's started off for us okay. No major dramas - EXCEPT those played out by the cats.

Yes, the CATS. I know this shocks you, you just can't believe it, but it's true. It's all true!

Our house has had episodes of peace, and episodes of pure war. WAR, people. WAR! Nasty war, too, both devious and outright hostilities.

For once, Evie isn't at the centre of it. Yes, I know that's also a big shock, but I guess she can't be the harbinger of all doom. Though, come to think of it....No, no, I have to be fair, Evie is innocent in all of this.

So who, you may ask, is at the centre of the war in our once peaceful home? Well, it's not one, but 3 - and sometimes 4 - cats. So the tale is this:

WAR IN THE VERDENIUS HOUSEHOLD

**CULPRIT 1** \- Name: Lacy

Code Name: Blue Girl

Age: approx 9 yrs old

Breed: Blue Pt Siamese Cross

**CULPRIT 2** \- Name: Lily

Code name: Lilybelles

Age: approx 5 yrs old

Breed: Moggie (aka Domestic Short Hair), black and white

**CULPRIT 3** \- Name: Abby

Code Name: Abby Wabby Woo

Age: approx 9 yrs old

Breed: Semi-longhaired moggie, black

**SOMETIME CULPRIT 4** \- Name: Fleur

Code Name: Flirty-Fleur

Age: approx 9 yrs old

Breed: semi-longhaired moggie, tortoiseshell

**VICTIM** \- Name: Bella

Code Name: That Poor Bloody Cat

Age: approx 7 months

Breed: Russian Blue

Sorry, no photo. Enjoy this of one of Mum's roses instead (it's nice!)

**LOCATION OF WAR** \- Verdenius household

**OWNERS** : Angela and her mother, known as 'Granny' to the furries that live there.

**CODE NAMES** : Dumb Bum and Sucker - secretly named by the furries.

**OBJECTIVE OF THE CULPRITS** : Kill Bella

**OBJECTIVE OF THE VICTIM** : Stay alive long enough until her owners arrive to pick her up.

**OBJECTIVE OF THE OWNERS OF THE HOUSEHOLD** : Keep Bella alive long enough until her owners can pick her up, stand guard between the Culprits and Victim, and try to stay sane.

I have no idea what sane means anymore...

**MOST EVENINGS** : Chaos. One of the Culprits will find the Victim and harass her. Full on. Tails puffed up, eyes glinting evilly, backs hunched up like they're having a gigantic pooh, only they're not, they're scaring the Victim. And chasing her.

**MOST MORNINGS** : Uneasy truce. Sort of. Until the Owners take their eyes off the Victim and/or the Culprits, and then it's Hell on Earth. Or War in the Verdenius Household. Take you're pick, it's pretty much the same thing.

**MOST AFTERNOONS** : Peace reigns, as the Culprits and Victim are asleep. The Owners take this time to lick their wounds, whimper, and try to get ready for the evening battle.

**EVERY NIGHT** : Victim is shut into the front room to sleep. Victim yells protests and claws way up fly-wire door (screen door for my US friends), which she has learned to open and we now have to lock. Evie sits on other side and looks impressed - or unimpressed, depending on whether she's playing Tough or Innocent.

**LENGTH OF WAR** : Pretty much started 3 weeks ago, escalating in intensity.

**LENGTH TO GO** : Sweet Jesus, please let it be only another week or two. PEOPLE, COME HOME AND GET YOUR CAT WHILE IT'S STILL ALIVE!!!!!

**HOPEFUL OUTCOME AT END OF WAR** : Victim will be alive and in one piece, Culprits will realise what little s***s they've been and be very sorry, Owners will forgive Culprits and be sane, and Household will return to normal.

**MORE LIKELY OUTCOME** : Victim will be alive and in one piece, Culprits will strut around yelling out that this is THEIR home and they'll PROTECT it anyway they damned well please, Owners will be gibbering wrecks (like that's anything new), and the Household will be reduced to it's normal not-quite-sane condition.

And it wasn't me this time!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Kitty Awwws & Catch Ups

The world of the furries has been rather good, actually. I know, such a shock. Trust me, I thought I had to check my pulse in case I'd died and gone to Heaven, but no, I was actually still in my house here on earth, in my solid form (in more ways than one hee hee) and the cats were behaving themselves.

The dogs generally don't do much wrong, so I can't really count them. Wait a minute, does not listening to what they're told to do count? Huh...maybe they are on a par with the cats...

Pixie: What does she mean? I always do what I'm told when I want to!

So anyway, there have been a few little hiccups, because it's not always safe sailing in these furry waters. Even peaceful days usually contain something.

That something is normally Evie. I know, another shock. Go get a stiff drink ;-)

So, Evie. Yes, we thought she'd outgrown her desire to run up our backs. I mean, she's over a year old now, time to settle down, right? Wrong. (You saw that coming, didn't you?). Evie stopped the back running for about 2 months, then out of the blue, it started again. Here Mum or I would be, looking in the 'fridge or pantry, contemplating what to eat/do/take out/cook, and ZOOOOOOM! Right up our backs and onto the top of the 'fridge or pantry. While we're still standing there in stunned shock, Evie is now rolling on top of the 'fridge and peering down at us, her eyes practically dancing with laughter, nose really pink with joy.

Yes, it's a wonderful game.

The other night she used my ample backside as a spring board. I kid you not. I'm standing there in front of the 'fridge (forgot to check on Eve of Destructions whereabouts first, idiot that I am) and next thing I feel these little feet boing off my bum and onto my shoulder and up. So I'm standing there, rather stunned, and Evie is rolling on top of the 'fridge laughing at herself.

I always knew I was a doormat to these cats.

Now the days have been really hot, though the last few days have been glorious. However, we went through weeks of a heat wave, and to top it off, humidity. It was during this time that I observed Lily doing what I now call The Lily Thing. Lily is a back sleeper. I mean, she does sleep on her tummy and side, but one of her favourite positions is on her back. On a really hot day, her fav possie is on my bed, on her back, under the fan, the breeze blowing her belly fluff around.

Smart cat. Hat's how I lie on hot nights, only I don't have belly fluff. I think.

Thinking back on it, Lily has always liked back sleeping, I even have photos of her as a kitten doing it.

Back sleeping is catching. Evie learned how to do it early on. She doesn't do it a whole lot now, not like Lily. Lily sleeps on her back quite often.

Last Friday the vet came around to vaccinate the furry horde. Most were well behaved, but Evie proved a challenge. (I know, another shock. Go get yourself another stiff drink). My vet said it was a torti temperament. I had always heard a rumour of this, but I didn't know that it was true. But apparently it is. Tortoiseshell (calicos to my US buddies) cats can be very flighty.

How about naughty? Really naughty? REALLY, REALLY naughty? Because I think Evie tops the deck in that pack of nutty cards, I tell you. One of her fav past times is dragging in assorted insects into Mum's room and letting them loose on the floor so that Mum can _eeeekkk what are you doing Evie?_ And chase the insects around with Evie darting between her feet.

A friend has a torti & white, whom I have known since she was a kitten. I've looked after Molly, and her chinchilla buddy Timmy, for years when their owners are away. Molly is fine at our house, and when I return her to Marie and Ron, she likes me. But go back to visit for a cuppa a few days later, and she hides from me. I'm TERRIBLE TO HER, she tells everyone. MEAN. IF THEY ONLY KNEW. I'm tying to coax her, but I've learned since don't even bother to try. I can't visit without her hiding from the HORRIBLE BEAST CALLED ANGELA. Now here's the kicker. If I stay at Marie and Ron's house and housesit while they're away, Molly can't let me out of her sight. She trips me up when I walk, and I kid you not, I can't even go to the loo without her trying to climb into my lap. She sleeps on my chest. But get this - as soon as Marie and Ron come home and I go across to visit I AM THAT MEAN PERSON and she has to hide, scared for her life.

Good grief. What a drama queen.

Get this. Evie is the same with most visitors! Yes! I tell people what she's like, how naughty she is, they read about her escapades, and when they come for a cuppa, what happens? Evie hides, trembling, eyes big. GOING TO EAT ME, she informs me. VISITORS ARE GONNA EAT LITTLE EVIE, her eyes convey clearly. GOTTA HIDE.

Good grief, drama queen number two.

Meanwhile....BORED, yawns Theo. GIMME MORE FOOD AND LOVE.

Such is life!!!

What Evie Did Next

I think I've mentioned before how Evie sets out to annoy me. Yes, she does! I know she deliberately sets out to do this, and you know why? Let me tell you.

No more can I sit and watch TV in the evenings. Gone are the days when I could sit back and relax, sipping on a Diet Coke with my feet up on the footrest. No, no more of this kind of thing for me. NO!

The whole cause of no more relaxing while watching TV? Evie. Evie Verdenius, the devious little tortoiseshell and white cat who lives in our house.

EVIE!!!

Let me set the scene for you

**VICTIM** : Angela (aka Dumb Bum to the furries)

**CULPRIT** : Evie (aka Eve of Destruction and/or Evil Evie)

**CULPRIT'S GRANNY** : Angela's Mum (aka Sucker to the furries)

**SETTING** : Verdenius lounge room.

**THE BEGINNING** : Angela sits down, places her Diet Coke on the coffee table, and puts her feet up on the footrest with a happy sigh. Picks up remote.

**WHAT HAPPENS NEXT** : Evie appears around the corner and looks from Angela to the TV and back to Angela again.

**NEXT** : Evie is on the floor in front of the TV cabinet, and Angela is getting nervous.

**Angela** : 'Don't you do it, Evie!'

**Evie** : making goggle-eyes at Angela

**Angela** : 'Evie!'

**Evie** : Jumps up onto cabinet.

**Angela** : Puts DC down and yells 'EVIE!'

**Evie** Sits in front of TV and makes goggle-eyes at Angela.

**Angela's Mum** : 'Don't let her get up there."

**Angel** a: 'Are you kidding me?'

**Angela's Mum** : 'Evie, don't you be a naughty girl.'

**Evie** : makes goggle-eyes at Granny and proceeds to eyeball the corner cupboard.

**Angela** : Jumps up and starts across the room. 'Evie!'

**Evie** : Jumps down and hides in her roller scratchy post. Sticks head out one side and tail the other, and leers at Angela.

**Angela** : Returns to sofa.

**Evie** : Runs back to TV cabinet.

**Angela** : 'EVIE!'

**Evie** : Makes goggle-eyes and jumps onto TV cabinet.

**Angela** : Leaps to feet.

**Evie** : Crouches low.

**Angela** : Hurries across lounge room.

**Evie** : Waits until Dumb Bum is within touching distance and rushes back to her roller scratchy post.

Now this goes on for awhile. Until finally...

**Evie** : Jumps on top of cabinet and eyeballs the corner cupboard.

**Angela:** 'What the (*@!**** have I been saying? DON'T DO IT!'

**Evie** : Makes a flying leap onto the corner cupboard.

**Angela** : '*&$@!!!!' And leaps across the room

**Angela's Mum** : 'Get her! Stop her!'

Like I'm not trying to, but really, I'm not built for sprinting.

Meanwhile, Eve of Destruction is hanging onto the top shelf by her two front paws, her back feet swinging free, and the corner cupboard starts to lean terrifyingly towards the TV.

**Angela:** Reaches for Evie.

**Evie** : Evades grasping hands and pulls herself atop the cupboard.

**Angela** : Red-faced and gasping for breath.

**Evie** : Smug and looking around at Granny. Isn't she clever, Granny? Isn't she wonderful?

**Angela's Mum** : 'You're so naughty!' (Like that's not a given)

**Evie** : Struts back and forwards over the top of the lounge room cupboards.

Now if this isn't bad enough, read what happens next...

One of two things happens...

**Choice One** : We drag the stepladder out of the linen press and Angela goes up it. (of course).

**Angela** : Reaches for Evie.

**Evie** : Bats eyelashes at Angela and retreats.

**Angela** : Coos 'come here, Evie, come on sweetie'.

**Evie** : Sits out of hands reach.

**Angela** : The cooing turns to: 'Get here, damn it!' And she tries not to laugh when the Evie makes goggle-eyes at her.

**Angela's Mum** : Issues instructions from the bottom of the ladder.

**Evie** : Can't help but come forward after a few minutes and gets grabbed and handed carefully down to Granny. She tells Granny how scared she was and wasn't she clever and wow! The view from up there was FANTASTIC!

Now you'd think that would be the end of it, but no. Go to the top of the page and read it again...

**Choice Two** : Angela and Angela's Mum ignore Evie. Evie makes goggle-eyes and struts around but we continue to watch TV. Finding that the two nasty humans are ignoring her (and how could they, because it's all about EVIE!) , she decides to sit on the edge of the cupboard, look at us, and cry. Pitiful, tiny, fearful meows.

The two stupid humans get up and rescue her.

Are we idiots or what?

Now go back to the top of the page and start reading again...

Yes, this is my relaxing time watching TV - NOT!!!!!

And as I'm writing this, Evie is asleep on the desk with her cheek on the edge of my laptop, looking all cute and cuddly and kissable. Little rat! here's her pic below, when she awoke a little saw I wasn't finished and settled back down beside the laptop. Total innocence! NOT!

Innocence Personified???

The Abandoned Kittens

One Saturday night around the beginning of May (could have been the end of April, I'm not quite sure anymore, and anyone who knows my memory will just nod in understanding), I was going to meet with 2 of my friends when we got a phone call from a lady who found 3 kittens in the bush behind her. She told us that she'd heard them crying Friday night, most of the night, and all day Saturday, but she hadn't seen any sign of a mother cat. Living in a block of flats, she wasn't allowed to have pets, so she'd rung up one lady she knew, who told her to ring us.

Normally, I'd direct anyone who found the kittens to the veterinary clinic, but on a Saturday evening, nothing is open until Friday except for emergencies, so I asked this lady to get the kittens for me and I'd pick them up and bring them home. When I got out of the car, I could hear the kittens yelling from the other side of the fence, I kid you not! This should have given me an inkling of what we were in for, but dummy that I am, I didn't think about it.

She came out with 3 kittens in a box, and one look told me that they were about four weeks old. There were 2 tabby & whites and a black & white. They were transferred from the box to the cat basket and off we went home.

The kittens a week after coming home.

Mum and I got the kitten pen and set it up in my writing room away from the other cats, until we knew the kittens weren't harbouring any diseases or germs such as cat flu, etc. A little peek showed us that we had 3 boys. We put them in with a hot water bottle and 3 little dishes of kitten food, and they chowed down like zombies at a living human buffet. Heads down, tails straight up - *slurp*slop*gobble*.

Now we found out that they couldn't lap the kitten milk or water we had in there. Oh boy... So out came the bottle and teat, we heated up the milk, and what do you know? The biggest boy, a tabby & white and a real fatty, sucked the milk out like it was manna from Heaven. The lean black & white one sucked at the teat like a miner who knew there was gold in them thar hills. Now came the clincher. Feeling quite confident, I picked up the tiniest boy, a tabby & white, but would he suck? NO. NOT ON YOUR LIFE, he yelled. NOT GONNA SUCK THE NASTY OLD FAKE TEAT! He screamed. NO NO NO!

We got the message after many failed attempts and milk all over us and him.

So out came the eyedropper.

NO! NO NO NO! YUCK! He hollered.

Well, there wasn't much we could do except squeeze a few drops into him, as I was afraid he'd end up aspirating the milk and getting pneumonia.

Whoever fed the kittens (Mum or I) had also to wash their bottoms with a warm, damp face washer to stimulate them.

So there we had it. Three hourly feeds night and day. I'd forgotten what that was like. I'd be sitting there, the bottle of milk warming in a cup of hot water, eyeballs hanging out of my head, half asleep, washing one little bottom after another and putting out little dishes of food and feeding them the bottle...and the littlest chap a few squeezes of milk from the eyedropper.

We got to know their individual characters within a mere few days.

Here we go...

TEDDY

Teddy got his name from being the biggest of the kittens. In comparison to his brothers, he was huge. He was a real teddy bear, fat and cuddly and a real mamma's boy. You could just tell. Hence his name. He loved to have a feed, a drink, and then snuggle snuggle snuggle.

This is Teddy just before he went to his new home having a nap in Mum's hands.

~*~

REBEL

Rebel was a real little rebel. One sight of us passing the pen and he was screaming ME ME ME! You'd reach in to take one of the kittens out for a feed or to clean the pen, and he'd have his little paws wrapped around your wrist, his little back feet jumping up and down, yelling ME ME ME! PICK ME! PICK ME! Geez, he was loud. Have his food, have a drink, have a cuddle and look around for trouble. He was a lean, not-so-mean, trouble machine.

~*~

CHARLIE

Well, Charlie was just little Mr Independence from day 1. Pick him up and he'd go, 'NO, I CAN LOOK AFTER MYSELF. JUST ME. ALL BY MYSELF I WILL DO IT.' He'd have a feed, fight you while you cleaned him, reluctantly take some milk, and once back in the pen, he'd walk around doing HIS OWN THING. There was something about Charlie that was so heart-rending. He was determined to do it his way.

But here's the thing with Charlie, I went to work one day and Mum had the boys for the afternoon. By the time I got back home that night, Charlie was being cuddled and loving it. I have no idea what magic my Mum performed, but Charlie started to like a cuddle after his food.

The only way we could get the kittens to drink was by piling their food in the middle of their tiny dishes and putting a small amount of milk in the bottom of the dish, so that by the time they finished pushing their food around and gobbling it down, they'd also slurped up the milk.

After 3 days, when all seemed well, we put the kitten pen in the backroom facing the glass door in the dining room. Now the other cats could see them, and no, they weren't impressed. They ignored them, expect for Polly, who swore at them and then proceeded to go and sit on the back veranda and sulk, telling us she WASN'T COMING IN ANYMORE UNTIL THEY WERE GONE! She came in to eat, though. Theo couldn't care, the others simply, well, ignored them.

Evie didn't know what to make of them. Goggle-eyed, she'd stare at them for ages. And when we finally put a blanket and their litter tray on the floor so they could walk around and play, she was fascinated, lurking around corners, hanging over the dining room chairs, peering at them from the top of the sofa - she was enthralled. I was half expecting her to try and kill them for intruding on her territory, but it wasn't long before she'd lay down a short distance from them to watch, occasionally coming forward to sniff at one before backing away.

Evie, shockingly enough, became good friends with them, and was the first in the kitchen when the babies came out of the pen.

Then came the day when we had to advertise them. At first I was fearful that we wouldn't get homes for them, as there were so many kittens around needing good homes, but the Lord was obviously looking out for us, because we got them homes! (Mum always said that if God brought abandoned kittens to us, He had to help find them a home).One lady came and was enchanted with Charlie, who waddled over to her as soon as she knelt on the floor. Off home with her he went. Rebel went to a workmate of a friend of mine, and Teddy won the heart of a workmate of mine.

So they all left home and Mum, Evie and I were left staring at an empty kitten pen. We packed it away and the space where the boys had slept looked very empty for awhile, and it was really strange to sleep through the night without getting up ultra early to do a feed.

After a week I rang up the new owners (as I told them I would) to check how things were going. Charlie slept on his new Mum's chest in her bed every night, Rebel had settled in well (my friend's workmate told her that he was 'loud' and 'trouble' and ran rampant on their bed at night chewing their toes), and Teddy became best buddies with my workmate's little dog and she's stoked about it.

So all in all, it worked out so well.

But here's my message to anyone reading this. Please sterilise your cats, both male and female. The female cat doesn't need a litter to ensure she 'matures', male cats can impregnate many females, and there are not enough good homes for kittens. I love kittens, but the heartbreak that comes when I send yet another finder of kittens or cats to the vet, knowing they'll probably be put down because there aren't any homes, is a nightmare. I can't take them all, my friends can't take them all, and good hearted people everywhere are trying so hard to help these unwanted cats and kittens.

If you're thinking about getting a cat or kitten, why not get in contact with your local vet or animal shelter, and adopt one that's been abandoned? If you see kittens being dumped and know who did it, contact your local RSPCA. And please spread the word - sterilise your pets. Not all abandoned kittens, cats, dogs or puppies get the happy ending Teddy, Charlie and Rebel did.

Catch Up With Evie and Polly

Okay, to be fair, a lot has been happening. Roof repairs, bathroom repairs that blew out from just 2 tiles needing repairing to the whole freakin' shower having to be retiled, my car wouldn't start early one morning and Mum had to quickly get me to work by 7am, then the light in the kitchen wasn't working and had to be replaced, and and and...and...did I mention and?

Anyway, I'm back now. Until another disaster strikes *knocking on wood and peeking furtively around*

So, the furries. What have they been up to? Well, there are only 2 who really stand out in my mind.

One is Evie (I know, shocking). What can I say about Evie? Interestingly, nothing has really changed with her. Naughty, bad, evil, cute, beguiling, FREAKIN' NAUGHTY, and a few other things come to mind. Mum calls her 'a little angel', I call her 'a naughty angel', and when she's in trouble, well...you really don't want to know what we call her.

**Evie On Top Of The Cupboard We'd Told Her NOT To Go On.**

Sadly, however, she is maturing (another shock...REALLY). She actu

ally has times when she DOESN'T get into trouble, but apparently this isn't one of them as I've JUST NOW had to delete a whole line of gibberish because IT just flopped across my keyboard and grabbed my hand. So I may have to take the 'maturing' part back.

Now Polly is the interesting one to write about. Remember how she was Box Girl? The box was the Best Place _Ever_ and she was going to sleep in it _Forever._ Then she decided that the back table in the cold was the Best Place _Ever_ and she was going to sleep out there _Forever_.

Really? It didn't last long.

One day I walked in and she was lying on the sofa in the back room. This, she informed me, was the Best Place _Ever_ and she was going to sleep here _Forever_!

*excuse me, I just had a fight with Evie over the internet cord which she was trying to pull out of the laptop. She slapped my hand when I tried to stop her, I pushed her away, and from there it got ugly. You don't want to know.*

So anyway, the sofa was the new Best Place _Ever_ and Polly slept there night after night after night. Until I walked into the house one day and she was perched on the dining room chair. This, she informed me, was the new Best Place _Ever_ , and she was going to sleep here _Forever_!

I wasn't so sure of this, but blinking her big eyes, she purred in confidence. Best Place _EVER_!

A few weeks later - tah dah! Polly's perched on the newspaper on the edge of the old table. Best Place _Ever_! Gonna sleep here _Forever_! Geez. Granny, being a soft touch, was worried about her freezing her fat butt off and provided her with a soft blankie. Best Place _Ever_! Polly informed me, snuggling her fat butt down.

I didn't think it would last long, regardless of how blissful she looked.

Sure enough, some weeks later, I walked into the lounge and there she was, perched on the armrest of the sofa. Best Place _Ever,_ she informed me solemnly. She was going to sleep there _Forever_! It had the added bonus of this....when Polly got tired, she could simply flop over onto the seat and go to sleep. Best Idea _Ever_!

I wondered and waited, and sure enough...some weeks later....there was Polly, perched on the flat top of the scratching post. Best Place _Ever_ , she assured me. She was going to sleep there _Forever_. Considering she had her little rolls of fat hanging off each side, I was pretty confident she wouldn't last long.

Yep, now she snuggles onto the bottom of Granny's bed every night, and informs me, quite seriously, that this is the Best Place _Ever_ and she is going to sleep here _Forever_!

So far she hasn't changed her mind, but winter is on its way out. Who knows what summer will bring?!

This and That

Time just flies, but life is never dull.

Mum's old bed wasn't doing too well, and one of her old wardrobes was falling apart, so she bought herself a new bed, a tall-boy (what we used to call a 'chest of drawers' and is now called a 'tall-boy'. Go figure), and a little bedside cupboard. Taking the old furniture out...well, let's just say it was only the 2 of us doing it, and there was a lot of swearing. From me. (I know, a shock, but there you have it). I swore and cursed and - it wasn't pretty, but several bruises later and a jammed thumb from a door slamming open, and it was all in the car port. The new furniture, however, didn't arrive that afternoon as promised, so Mum slept on the sofa.

What?! Come on, I did try to get her to take my bed, I'm not THAT mean! But Mum insisted on taking the sofa, and reckoned the next morning she'd had a great sleep. The furniture arrived the next afternoon after a phone call from me (yes, I WAS polite! Sheesh!) and we took the plastic off and marvelled at it.

So did Evie. She bounced on the new bed, pronounced herself impressed, tunnelled under the news sheets and jumped all over the tallboy. The furry couldn't decide what to do next, there was all this NEW STUFF TO PLAY WITH AND JUMP OFF and it was all very EXCITING.

Not as exciting as when Mum caught her scratching on the new mattress. That earned her time out in the sin bin. Twice. Nevertheless, she approves of it all.

Polly and Evie are in a battle of wits, each trying to lord it over the other. Okay, to be honest, Evie started it all (I know, such a surprise...*sigh*). Every time Polly came through the cat flap, Evie would be waiting for her, ready to swipe. Then she'd chase her. Polly, being the stubborn little furry she is (and a trifle hot-tempered) gave back as good as she got by hissing and growling at Evie every time she saw her. And still does. Every freakin' time. The old growl rises into the air from Polly, Evie's eyes go big, Polly's goes black, ears go down, whiskers bristle, and the staring contest commences.

The battle of wills has taken to Mum's bed as well. Evie always sleeps on her little blankie near Mum's pillow every night. Polly decided that what the heck, she was going to sleep on Evie's blankie near Mum's pillow. Evie nearly had a fit when she got on the bed and saw THAT DAMNED FAT CAT on HER BLANKIE next to HER GRANNY'S PILLOW! Good grief, I thought World War 3 was going to break out. Mum put a stop to it by making Polly sleep further down the bed and letting Evie have her blankie in its usual spot. Fair enough, really, because Evie has slept there ever since she was a kitten, so... But war still happens now and again, with stealthy footsteps, staring, and slinking around.

Mind you, at other times they simply ignore each other!

Abby had to be sedated today and have a huge matt on her back shaved off (thank you Nikki!). Yes, Abby now has a bald patch, but as I said to her, "Hey, if you're going to threaten to rip my arm off if I try and comb a small knot out of your fur, you've only got yourself to blame!" On the plus side, she has lost about 600gms, which is a lot for a cat, and which she badly needs to lose. Hmmmm...600 gms down and about another 2 kgs to go... I won't inform her of that!!!!

**Evie** has this annoying habit of laying half on her side and half on her belly with BOTH paws in my printer. All I can hear is SPROING SPROING SPROING as she happily yanks away at some spring in there that certainly IS NOT supposed to make SPROINGING sounds!!!! When I try to stop her, she gets this mutinous look on her face and - oh geez, you all know Evie by now. Let's just say it turns into a childish session between me and her - I'm pushing her, she's slapping me, I'm pulling her, she's mewing crossly at me, and then we both end up glaring at each other. Until I break down and start laughing.

I am so weak.

Evie - Mini-Mum & Mayhem

Evie does some weird and wonderful things, there's no doubt about it. But lately she's started to top even our expectations. How? Quite simply, Evie has turned into Mini -Mum, in other words, she is starting to imitate my Mum, Evie's beloved Granny.

This strange behaviour occurs at night time, when both of them are tucked up in their bed. Evie is in her usual place, starting the night facing her beloved Granny, her little head resting in Granny's hand as she drifts off into the sleep of the...*choke*...innocent.

I can't believe I really said that. Evie and innocent in the same sentence. Seriously?

Anyway, they start off that way. Now, before I go to sleep I'll usually do a last check to see where the animals are, a last check of the door, etc. And yes, that's when I first saw the strange, new phenomena.

Mum was lying on her side, fast asleep, hands tucked up near her cheek. Evie was lying on the bed, on her same side, her little paws tucked up near her furry cheek. Now I thought this was quite cute and didn't think anything of it, until the next few checks.

Must you spy on me when I'm having my beauty sleep?

See, if I have to go to the loo during the night, I still check where Evie is before I go to bed because if anyone is going to get locked in the loo, it'll be Evie. So the check during the night revealed Mum lying on her back, fast asleep. Next to her, lying on her little back, fast asleep, is Evie.

This continued. Every night, every check, Evie would be in the exact same position her beloved Granny was in. What the...? Were they joined by invisible strings? I kid you not. And it continues to this very day. During the night, if Mum is curled up on her side, so is Evie - same side, same position. Mum on her back - Evie on her back. Mum on her other side - Evie on her other side. Same position, same side, facing the same way. It's uncanny.

Then again, it is Evie, and she's freakin' uncanny sometimes!

Apart from that, Evie's her usual naughty self. (I know, what a shock). The other day I had to go out to an appointment and had just locked up when Evie hooned past me doing sixty miles an hour and proceeded to bounce all over the poor old cats. DT and Tori squinted their eyes and hunched up, and there was no chance I could leave them to Evie's nefarious tendencies, so the only thing I could do was shut her in Mum's bedroom until Mum got home, which was about half an hour.

It all sounds so simple, doesn't it?

I went to get Evie, she hooned past me the other way, I missed grabbing her as she swerved around me and then she shot through the cat hole with me yelling threats behind her. She then proceeded to peer through the cat hole at me, big eyes glinting evilly, mayhem on her mind.

Helping her beloved Granny measure some material.

Whereas I was going to be to my appointment on time, now I feared I would be late. Swearing, I unlocked the door and tried to grab Evie as she raced around the back veranda (it's trellised in, so she can't get out). Evie yelled back at me threateningly 'Come near me and YOU'LL BE SORRY!' and dived under the little cat hammock. I reached for her and she hissed at me.

The little bugger. She has no shame, really, she has NO shame!

I grabbed her, dragged her out and she hung pathetically in my hand (until she saw the old cats, then her ears perked up) while I took her to Mum's room and shut her inside.

Mum said when she got home, Evie was on the bed, little paws curled under her, looking all sweet as Mum entered. Evie doing the sweet Sphinx pose. I am so not surprised.

So, you'd be forgiven for thinking that she'd probably had enough by now, but no, we had one more scene to go through. This was the Evie Is Done Wrong By.

Evie Is Done Wrong By happened not long after and was caused by me. Yes, apparently I was the one at fault.

I'd just finished sweeping the house and had torn up an old box (you can see where this is going, can't you?) and put it on the back veranda to go out to the bin. After a few minutes, I went out to do so and who did I find sitting mournfully in the box, but Evie.

Yes, Evie, her big eyes sad, her little whiskers drooping. The following kind of happened like this (I swear, that cat can't speak actual words, but the expressions weren't far off this).

Me: What?

Evie: You tore up my BOX!

Me: You have plenty of boxes.

Evie: But not like THIS one!

Me: You don't even like this box.

Evie: Do to!

Me: No, you don't. Remember when I gave it to you? I tore out the little hole for you and all so you could get your lanky little body in there? Well, you got into it, sniffed, and then walked out.

Evie: So?

Me: You spurned it. You spurned the box.

Evie: So?

Me: THIS box. The one you're all upset about.

Evie: You tore up my box.

Me: But you don't like this box!

Evie: So? I like it now!

Me: You have three other boxes you play in. You never touch this one.

Evie: I want to touch it now.

Me: You are touching it. You're sitting in it, see?

Evie: But you tore it up.

Cue big sad eyes.

I tell you, this cat drives me crazy!

But there's more!

It's all lies, I tell you!!

This morning the bedroom door shut. No one in the house but me. Did I freak out? Did I have visions of Paranormal Activity? No. I knew the culprit. Yes, I opened the door, and yes, Evie was sitting there.

Evie: You shut me in.

Me: I did not.

Evie: You shut the door.

Me: No, you did.

Evie: No, I didn't.

Me: You were hanging off Mum's cardigan again, weren't you?

Evie: What cardigan?

Me: The one on the back of the door.

Evie: So?

Me: So you were swinging on it again and your weight on the door shut it.

Evie: What's your point?

Me: I think we're going in circles here.

Evie: You shut the door on me.

I need more Diet Coke. LOT'S more Diet Coke!

**And then there's the on-going saga of Evie, aka Eve of Destruction**.

Evie has developed the habit of getting up on the laundry cupboard and then meowing pitifully for someone to please get her down, she's frightened and can't possibly do it on her own. So starts the whole thing of one of us going into the laundry and telling the little darling that yes, we understand, and pookykins can jump on our backs, yes she can, yes she can! And we bend over obligingly and pat our backs. Whereupon she smooches the tissue boxes and packets of spare toilet rolls and looks cute and coy and....you get the picture.

So yesterday I went to get some toilet rolls down to put in the loo, and I pulled down the packet and – it was raining confetti. I kid you not, it looked like it was snowing in the laundry. I had ripped up toilet roll in my hair, on the floor, over the washing machine. Yep, Evie had been up there on and off all this time, looking cute and coy and SHREDDING THE TOILET ROLLS!

That cat is evil!!!!!!! She didn't even have the good grace to look even a teeny, tiny bit ashamed! No, she just strutted out into the back room, ran up the door onto a cupboard and proceeded to meow pitifully because she couldn't possibly get down all by herself...

SO, EVIE...

Before I start this entry, I have to tell you all this. I was at the RWA Riding the Waves Conference in Fremantle this weekend just gone, and while at a book signing, I'm sitting there (trying not to look self-conscious), when this lovely lady, Linda, saw my name and went \- "Evie!". LOL. I kid you not! Evie is getting famous thanks to her antics. Somehow, I doubt I'd get the same reaction if I jumped all over someone ROTFL.

Now for the serious stuff.

I don't know if Evie can get any naughtier. OMG, that cat is making me grey faster than a mozzie sucks blood. She just looks SO cute, SO lovable, SO innocent, that it's just unbelievable to anyone who doesn't know her. Seriously. REALLY seriously.

Evie aka Eve of Destruction

Even as a baby, the signs were all there...

Lately, she's been in the middle of a power struggle with, it seems, every cat in the household that doesn't bow down to her. Which, according to her, they should, because she's BOSS COCKY and EVERYONE must treat her as such.

That thought never occurs to me when I'm taking BOSS COCKY to the Sin Bin (aka the bathroom) for time out. Evie's whole thing is throwing a tantrum until we're almost there, then she kind of flops and has this look on her face like..."Oh, geez."

Yeah, missy, oh geez! Oh geez when I find the tissue box on the floor and it looks like it's raining tissues in the bathroom. And there you are, perched on the bathroom sink looking all SWEET AND INNOCENT!

And then I let you loose...

Anyway, the power struggle. It's Evie and Polly, Evie and Theo, Evie and she tried Lily, Evie and Lacy.

Poor Lacy cringes and runs, spitting and yelling threats. Evie just does her usual *strut strut strut*I'm BOSS COCKY!

She tried it with Lily and let's just say Evie hasn't tried it again with her.

Now Theo - big Theo, the tabby male who is built like a tank. She had him so distraught one day that he was running past her, giving her this big wide birth and looking scared. Really, Theo? REALLY? You're twice her size! That's embarrassing!

My Little Man, Theo

Size doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Its attitude that counts, and Evie has lots of attitude. She is THE attitude personified.

So she tried it with Polly. Now Polly is a big, *cuddly* black cat who is also twice Evie's size. To see this scrawny torti trying to be Boss Cocky over Polly was mind-boggling, but there you go. Evie likes to scale mountains.

Anyway, back and forth the power struggle between these two goes, sort of like a ping-pong ball. Evie lurks behind the sofa in the back room, right near the cat flap. Polly comes through and Evie JUMPS HER! Polly shrieks, spits, swears and runs, and right when Evie thinks she's got her going, Polly flings around and spits and Evie puts the brakes on - _scccrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!_ And then proceeds to sit and sulk.

Polly's current place of snoozing is on Granny's bed. Loves Granny's bed, Best Place Ever, she assured me when I was surprised to see her there. BEST place ever... _especially_ in Evie's spot, on Evie's blankie near Granny's pillow.

Now What Can I Do Next?

I wasn't the only one goggle-eyed when I saw Polly happily curled up asleep on Evie's blankie. Evie's eyes almost popped out of her head. Mum tried to shift Evie before Evie saw, but nu-uh! Evie saw! And it was on for young and old.

Mum is trying to push Polly further down the bed, Evie is hanging in Mum's arms yelling threats to Polly, Polly's swearing back at Evie and Hissing at Mum for daring to push her down the bed, Mum's yelling for me to help and I'm...well, laughing. I'm trying not to, and Mum's getting angry, and Polly's furious, and Evie's beside herself and I'm trying to help but basically useless with laughter.

So anyway, there's an uneasy truce now on Mum's bed when Polly refused to get off. Not that Mum wanted her off the bed, but Evie sure as heck wasn't impressed. HER Granny, she informed Polly, strutting around the top part of the bed. HER blankie. HER pillow. It is all about HER!

Polly just kind of lifted the corner of her lip and hissed. And she still tries to get higher up the bed.

So every night it's the same thing. There I am, reading in bed, and you hear it start.

Mum: "Polly, move down."

Evie: *growls death threats*

Polly: *spits insults*

Mum: Stop it, you two! Polly, no! Evie, shut up!

Evie: *LOUDER death threats*

Polly: *swearing* and trying to get higher up the bed.

Mum: "Look, cut it out!

Evie: MY Granny, MY blankie, MY pillow, MY bed - I'm BOSS COCKY!

Polly: I'm gonna sit on you and rub my bum on you and _everything!_

Evie: Oh yeah _? Oh yeah?_ Come here and say that!

Polly: Right! I will!

Mum: Polly, no! Evie, get here! Under here! Now shut up and go to sleep!

"Seriously, Aunty Angie lies, I'm a good girl!"

Polly settles with a toss of her head, Evie sulks and peers over the edge of the doona, and Mum finally settles with a magazine.

But it's not finished, because right as Evie settles, she has to give Mum a love bite, which makes Mum yell. Only THEN will she settle down

Now a friend's kitty is staying with us for a while, her name is Freya and she's a beautiful tortoiseshell (calico for my US friends). Evie has been fronting up to the fly wire door that closes the passage off to the room Freya is staying in, of course. Evie struts up and down in front of the door. "I'm BOSS here. I'm Evie! This is MY house, MY Granny, MY front room, and yes, that chair you dare to sleep on is MY chair! You're just lucky you're not out here, 'cause if you were-" And this is accompanied by her rushing at the door to stand up against it, tail quivering, whiskers stuck right out, and eyes gleaming manically.

So after about a week of all this, Freya was going stir crazy, so I thought I'd let her out into the house for a run while I was standing guard. Evie walked into the room as Freya watched.

Well, every time Evie moved, so did Freya. Freya poked her, sniffed her tail, and TOUCHED her! (horrors!) and followed her around, completely unnerving Evie. Boss Cocky huddled in a little ball and watched Freya out of huge eyes, not game to move, while Freya eyed her off. So I rescued Evie, picking up the poor little darling and hugging her close.

And what happens?

As soon as she clears the ground and is safe in my arms, she proceeds to throw her head over my arm and starts yelling at Freya. YOU'RE JUST LUCKY AUNTY ANG RESCUED _YOU!_ Growling dire threats. I COULD HAVE BEATEN YOU UP! Snarling. I WAS THIS CLOSE TO LAYING YOU OUT! As I got out the door with the indignant Evie, she had to have the last word. I'M BOSS COCKY AROUND HERE! IT'S ALL ABOUT ME! And then, when I put her down, she proceeded to *strut*strut*strut* back and forth in front of the door, while Freya looked on with interest.

So I thought, seeing as how Evie wasn't doing anything wrong, that today I'd let Freya out for another walk. I thought it would be fine. I am such a drongo.

Evie watched, sniffed, investigated Freya's food and followed Freya around.

Theo didn't give a rat's a**e, he walked right by Freya, hoovered up her biscuits and went for a nap in the armchair.

Just when I was relaxing and starting to do some chores, the death threats sounded! I hooned around to find Evie thrusting her little white chest out, eyes huge, whiskers bristling, and she was going to have Freya on. Freya was a little freaked.

I was a little freaked. Trying to explain to my friend why my shy little torti that she rarely saw when she came, could possibly have beaten up her cat, was something I didn't want. So I swooped Evie up while Freya made her escape to the front room and I shut the door.

Yep, from now on, Freya only goes walkies in the house when Evie is shut into the bedroom.

Little Boss Cocky is now lying on my desk while I type this, looking like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

Good grief! I tell you, life with Evie is never dull. Challenging, however, now that's a whole other ball game...

One last thing, so you know what I'm getting at. Evie has developed a new 'thing'. Her latest? Let's just say I walked out into the backroom to find her hanging over the scratching post, head and paws down one side, back legs the other, belly over the top. WTHell? "Mum!" I yelled. "What's this about?" Mum took one look and said, quite casually, "Oh, she's been doing that for awhile now. It's her latest thing..." I managed to get a photo, not as good as it should be, because she just has to see what I'm doing with the camera. Spoilt the shot, but you get the idea LOL!

Oh, Evie, Evie...

Evie 'Boss Cocky', Evie's Vaccination & Polly's New Spot

So first things first, an update on Evie, aka Eve of Destruction. Remember my last blog, all about Evie lording it over Freya, my friend's cat? Well, wonders of wonders, they turned into good friends! I kid you not! Feeling sorry for Freya, I let her out again and kept watch, and Evie followed her and Freya eye-balled her, and because Freya wouldn't back down, they became good friends and were often found playing and chasing each other.

Then Freya went home.

Thinking that maybe Evie was turning over a new leaf (I am SUCH a fool), when Bella, my brother's cat, came to stay while they were away, I thought that surely now Evie would nice. I mean, she was okay with Freya in the end, right? And they were good friends, right? And Bella is such a sweet cat, right?

See, there's the thing. Bella is sweet, Bella isn't confrontational, Bella can be a little shy....place this kind of temperament in front of Evie, and what have you got? A keg waiting to explode. Which Evie almost did.

I AM BOSS COCKY! *strut*strut*strut* in front of the room door. IT'S ALL MINE! EVERYTHING IN THE FRONT ROOM IS MINE! THE CHAIR, THE DESK, THE BOXES OF PHOTOS, THE CUPBOARDS - ALL MINE! ALL EVIE'S! *strut*strut*strut* I AM BOSS COCKY!

Bella was happy to be friends, but when she backed off after Evie strutted into the room, Evie saw the shyness, the sweetness, the retreat - and it was on! She was going to stalk Bella until she drove her mad, was going to hound her and jump on her when she least expected it, arch her back and look menacing and watch in glee as Bella shrunk away and hid on top of the cupboard, while Evie watched her from below with a maniacal gleam in her eyes.

So there went the theory that Evie might accept visiting cats. You'd think I'd know by now, but I have this eternal hope and...geez.

So Lacey decided that here was a cat who was actually scared of her, too, and she was going to boss her around and torment her if Bella dared to show her face outside her room! Tail bushed, eyes huge, whiskers quivering in threat, Lacey will sit in front of the security screen and stare at Bella, totally unnerving Bella, who watches her nervously from the safety of the desk - at the other end of the room.

So the only way I can let Bella out of the front room for a change of scenery, I have to lock Evie and Lacey up in different rooms (putting those two together would be a disaster, I'm not THAT stupid). Only then can Bella venture forth and walk around.

Theo, as usual, couldn't give a flying fig, he just walks right past her, hoovers up her biscuits and gets in the armchair for a snooze. The other cats are pretty much 'don't come near me, and I'll ignore you, and all is right with the world'.

So when people come and Evie disappears, they all think what a sweet, shy little thing she must be.

One of our vets, Sarah, and one of the vet nurses, Shayna, came out to vaccinate the furry horde. It didn't go too badly. Big eyes, a bit of scrambling from a couple, and lots of hair flying around 'cause the furries are all losing their winter coat (I'm sure I'm going to hack a fur ball any day now, there's so much hair around).

But I kept the best - or worst - to last. Can you guess who? Come on, give it a try!

Evie! I know, you're shocked!

"It's all a lie. Everyone picks on me!"

So, having a bit of forethought, I cunningly left Evie until last. Mostly because I had this feeling that if we tried to drag her out in front of STRANGERS, one of three things would happen:

1. None of us would survive the episode to vaccinate the rest.

2. Evie would totally unnerve all the other cats and it'd be a disaster for all concerned.

3. We'd all be too shattered to continue.

So when all the furries were done, I went to Mum's room...and Mum and I had to hunt her down, unable to find her, but there was this tiny little nose peeking out from behind Mum's pillow.

_Awwwwww_...I hear you all sigh, and I can just imagine your smile. BUT wait a minute....

So I get hold of her, and I position her in front of me, her back to my front because I just knew something bad would happen when she saw Sarah and Shayna, and I didn't want Evie's claws in my skin.

With every steps I took down the passage (and it's a small passage), Evie grew stiffer and stiffer, and then we came out into the little dining room, Evie took one look at the vet and vet nurse, and...EXPLODED!

People, it was like trying to hold a feral cat. Front paws, back paws, tail, head \- everything tried to go in every which direction at once. Whiskers bristled, head flung back, back legs attempting to find purchase on my arms, body wriggling like a belly dancer gone wild, and it was on.

I managed to get her onto the kitchen bench and tried to pin her down. I couldn't get a grip on her scruff, she's a willowy cat and there really isn't any spare skin to grab, and I was trying to hold her down, pin her down, hand on her back to PUSH her *&%@! down, and she was going in all directions at once.

I couldn't see her face but I think her eyeballs were rolling wildly around in her head.

I know mine were.

Nobody could get a grip on Evie. She exploded out of my hold and off the kitchen bench, leaving everyone gaping and a pile of torti and white hair in the air and over the bench.

It was an experience. I don't think it's one Sarah and Shayna want to repeat. Mum and I, unfortunately, don't have a choice. Evie lives with us...there are a lot more explosions waiting in the future.

Needless to say, she eventually got her vaccination, but it wasn't without a fight. That cat does nothing the easy way.

So Polly. Last time I blogged, her Best Spot Ever was on Mum's bed, and preferably in Evie's spot and on Evie's blankie (another sure-fire way to get an explosion from Evie). But Polly's New Best Spot Ever is on the dining room chairs.

It'd be okay if she stayed on one chair, but every time you lift your bum, she shifts to your chair. You go to sit back down and there's these two bright, yellow eyes staring up at you from a furry little black face. So you sit in the chair vacated by her, and she shifts when you get up again.

BEST SPOT EVER she assures me, squidging her eyes shut and purring. GONNA STAY HERE FOREVER.

So far, she's still playing musical chairs, trying to decide which chair is best (usually the one you've just vacated). We've pretty much figured out not to ruffle her too much or try to shift her, because she then gets on the table and sits on whatever you're reading, staring at you out of those big, gold eyes, or head butts you and makes you spill whatever drink you had just raised to your mouth.

It was quite hilarious watching Mum and Polly one night. No sooner had Mum pushed Polly onto a chair and off the table so Mum could wash the table before she served up tea, than Polly popped up on another chair and up onto the table, and Mum pushed her down, and up Polly popped from the chair on the other side and up onto the table, and...it kept going.

As you can imagine, Mum was getting annoyed, Polly was getting annoyed, and I was laughing, so then Polly and I were both in trouble with Mum. But seriously, it was funny! Mum and Polly, both so determined to win!

So anyway, as you can see, life is as normal at our little house!

Cats Still Rule

Evie...oh geez...Evie Evie Evie. So I've been fighting with Evie (I know, what a shock). The latest thing is this sitting on the FREAKIN' FISH TANKS! Okay, Evie might only have a lean little a**e, but the lids are made of plastic and NOT meant to be sat on. She knows this. I've told her a HUNDRED TIMES NOT TO SIT ON THE FISH TANK LIDS! Does she listen?

Seriously? You're actually waiting to hear? You really don't know?... Oh, you do know...I can see the smirk on your faces now....

So, this is the typical scenario...

**Me:** (spotting Evie sitting/lying on fish tank): Evie, get off.

Evie: What?

Me: Get off the fish tanks.

**Evie:** What?

**Me:** Get OFF the fish tanks!

**Evie:** What?

**Me:** Get off THE FISH TANKS!

**Evie** : What?

**Me** : I SAID GET OFF THE FISH TANKS!

**Evie** : What?

**Me** : GET OFF THE FREAKIN' FISH TANKS!

**Evie** : What?

Evie on the FREAKIN' FISH TANK!!!

So I try to push her off.

So she slaps back at me.

**Me** : Stop that!

**Evie** : You pushed me!

**Me:** I told you to get off the fish tanks!

**Evie** : What?

So by now my blood pressure is starting to spike.

**Me** : Get off the fish tanks RIGHT NOW!

**Evie** : What?

**Me** : Get off. Get OFF GET OFF GET _OFF_!

**Evie** : What?

Just when I think my head will explode, she decides to get off, stretch leisurely and look around.

**Evie** : By the way...did you know the lids are sagging in the middle?

Is it any wonder black dots are dancing before my eyes?

So you think this would be the worse, but no, not only does this happen at any time, it also happens at fish feeding time. I try to do it while Evil Evie is asleep, but somehow she knows...she just knows. I open the lid, quietly take out a couple of light flakes, drop them silently into the water, ease back, but before I can draw a sigh of relief -

VRROOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM! SCRRREEEEEEEECHHHHHHH!

Evie: Whoo hooooo!!!! I'm here! Feedin' the fish, huh? Wow!

Now she's all goggle-eyed and her paw is dangling in the water...through the plastic bit she broke off the fish tank lid awhile ago.

It's a wonder I'm not living on Valium with this cat in the house.

So, Evie aside, Polly has acquired a new place to sleep. Remember how she has fads on where to sleep? For awhile there, she started to sleep on the backroom floor, right between the laundry door, the backroom door, and right in front of one of the litter trays. This ensured that-

1. Lily, Lacy and Evie would not use that particular litter tray

2. Polly could see whichever cat was coming in and out of both doors, and could alternately ignore them or give them the evil eye, depending on:

a) her mood

b) her relationship with said cat

3. Her Grandma (aka Sucker) and Aunty Ang (aka Dumb A**e) had to step over her...all the time...every time...

BEST SPOT EVER! She assured me

Polly has some strange BEST SPOTS EVER

So we kind of got used to stepping over and around her, but then she decided to change spots and found a new BEST SPOT EVER.

The new BEST SPOT EVER is under my bed, right at the edge, behind the frill that hangs down from the mattress to the floor. Here she can-

1. Lurk for unsuspecting Lily, Evie or Lacy to come under and get the living crap scared out of them.

2. Hide from her medicine.

3. Pretend she doesn't hear us when we're calling her, because after all, she's in a dim, dark cave well away from civilization, just as a fat, black sabre-tooth tiger would be.

4. She can come running out looking all indignant when Dumb A**e sweeps/mops under the bed and hits her by accident.

5. It's just a really cool place to hang out - BEST SPOT EVER!

I'm not sure how long this BEST SPOT EVER is going to last, but we'll see. I'm wondering what places she could possibly have left...

The New Cat Climber, Scratchy, Platform Thingies Caper

The furries are driving me nuts. I know, the very thought of those sweet, innocent little furries driving anyone nuts is just incomprehensible, but it happens. Every day. All the time.

Evie's little scratching post with the round thingy she likes to lie in, has become quite old. Given to us by good friend Theresa when Evie was a sweet little baby (and we didn't know any different...poor fools that we were), it has been her sleeping and playing toy for over 3 years, not to mention the other cats have loved to have a good scratch on it. But time and wear and tear made it all wobbly and the rope start to come off, so I decided to buy a new one to go in the lounge, and another new one to go in the enclosure (off the veranda that the cats can run into and play or snooze if they want).

So I bought this really cool, ultra fluffy, tiger-print, whoopee-do big scratching and climbing post, which had a high shelf with an ultra fluffy top and a cool igloo on the other end. I put it in the lounge in front of the big window and stood back to survey it, suitably impressed, and called Mum in to have a look.

"Magnificent!" I cried.

"Gorgeous!" Mum echoed.

"Looks great!" I beamed.

"Absolutely lovely!" Mum gushed.

Evie took one look at it and went, "What the hell?" And, as we watched with condescending smiles on our faces while she investigated it, waiting for the little darling to be as impressed as we, our hearts fell a little when she stalked out of the lounge, sulking with every step.

Assuring ourselves she just had to get used to it, it was new after all, I took the ratty old scratching post and round thingy out and put it on the back veranda. There, not long after, I found Evie sitting beside it, little face sad. Just her and _her_ scratchy, she told me, looking even sadder. Had it since she was a BABY, it was all HERS, and I had NO RIGHT to take it away, or, heaven forbid (I swear her bottom lip trembled...I know mine did), THROW IT AWAY!

Still trying to reassure ourselves that little Evie just needed a little time, we sat in the lounge that evening and watched her.

Evie stalked up to the new, ultra fluffy, high-shelved climbing cat thingy with the tiger print and jumped up to sniff disdainfully at the igloo before jumping onto the top fluffy shelf. Then, as we smiled in relief, she proceeded to grab tufts of the fluffy stuff AND TRY TO YANK IT OUT! I kid you not! She was sitting there, freakin' trying to yank out the fluff!!!!!!

Evie - Not Impressed!

That girl is going to be the death of me.

I had to eventually take the uber-cool igloo off and place it on the floor, whereby Fleur slept in it for several hours before getting bored with it and walking away, only to have Abby declare it was the Greatest Thing and squash her fat bum into it, lying down with her back legs stuck out the hole like a demented furry chicken.

I'm still not sure how she gets in there, but I know not everything fits at once. Yesterday her tail was sticking out. Something ALWAYS sticks out!

So I finally caved in, managed to fix the old scratcher and round thingy and placed it back in the lounge beside the endangered uber-cool, new cat play thing. (See, I'm so emotional I can't even settle on one word for the new cat equipment).

So Evie is happy, lying back in her old round thingy, hanging out the sides, fighting everyone, and then she does her gymnastics whereby she flings herself from one cat play equipment to the other, hanging upside down, hanging between the two, jumping up and down and basically being Evie. Playing the fool.

Oh, wait, _I_ was the one played for a fool.

But there's more!

The new red cat climber, scratchy, platform thingy I bought to go out in the enclosure, I had placed in the backroom until Mum could help me get it in the enclosure. Abby was delighted and spent two days and nights with her fat bum on the plush bottom platform, while Polly commandeered the top and informed me that it was the BEST SPOT EVER and she was GOING TO STAY HERE FOREVER!

Polly's new BEST SPOT EVER!

She loved it so much she even deserted Evie's basket, which she'd commandeered a few days earlier (to Evie's disgust, but that's another story).

Even Lacy loved it, swanning back on the platform like a graceful furry swan with a blue furry face.

So, after serious consultation with each other, Mum and I decided that the new red cat climber, scratchy, platform thingy could stay in the backroom and I'd just have to save up and get ANOTHER cat climber, scratchy, platform thingy for the enclosure.

Not long after, I scored a bargain at the pet store. A lovely new creamy-coloured cat climber, scratchy, platform thingy that I got half price because it was missing one part, and not even an important part!

So I got it home and placed it on the back veranda to put out in the enclosure when the rain stopped. Before I knew it, Polly was firmly ensconced in the top platform, assuring me happily that this was the BEST SPOT EVER and she was GOING TO STAY HERE FOREVER!

Polly's other Best Spot Ever!

I kind of staggered back. But wasn't the new red cat climber, scratchy, platform thingy the BEST SPOT EVER? No, Polly said firmly, THIS was the BEST SPOT EVER!

Then Evie proceeded to rub the salt right into the wound by playing madly on it whenever Polly got off, because this one was SO MUCH BETTER! And she LOVED it!!!!

I reeled back into the house, rather shocked, which is quite a stupid emotion for me when around the cats because, really, I've lived with them for years and you'd think I'd be used to it by now.

So Mum and I consulted and we agreed that it would go into the enclosure when the cats were tired of it.

Within two days, Polly was once again in the back room, fat bum ensconced in the red cat climber, scratchy, platform thingy, informing me she'd changed her mind and THIS was DEFINITELY the BEST SPOT EVER! The only time she wasn't going to sit in it was when she was annoying Evie by sitting in Evie's basket instead, but most times, she said while batting her eyelashes at me, the red cat climber, scratchy, platform thingy was the BEST SPOT EVER.

Like Polly, I was getting quite emotional, but I'm pretty sure our emotions were actually at opposite ends of the scale. Polly was ecstatic, and I was, well...what can I say?

No sooner did I think it was safe to take the creamy coloured cat climber, scratchy, platform thingy out to the enclosure, than Evie jumped all over it, looking coy (and damned naughty) and played merrily with the balls on it. For twenty minutes. And she keeps doing it.

Evie - playplayplay!

So now I don't know what to freakin' do. New cat climber, scratchy, platform thingy in the backroom (there's an older one there already), new cat climber, scratchy, platform thingy in the lounge (beside the ratty old one with the rope unwinding), new cat climber, scratchy, platform thingy out on the back veranda which we have to bring in every time it rains, and out in the enclosure - NO cat climber, scratchy, platform thingy.

So this means one day I have to get another, or try to sneak the cream coloured one out to the enclosure when Evie is asleep...which means I get the doleful looks and the lost expression and the YOU TOOK MY CAT CLIMBER, SCRATCHY, PLATFORM THINGY and I LOVED IT!

I can't think about this anymore, I need another Diet Coke...

What They did Next

Now these both happened before I left home for Canberra (of course).

**Evie**. I'm typing away, happily writing the next million dollar bestseller (yeah, right!), and she's snoozing on the desk in front of me. I glance up and had a WTHell! moment. My screen was sideways. SIDEWAYS! It wasn't freakin' sideways minutes ago, but it is now! I have to turn my head sideways to try and read ANYTHING. The whole desktop IS FREAKIN' SIDEWAYS!

Evie just looks at me, stretches, bats her eyelashes and goes back to sleep.

I'm panicking. OMG, I have to get this stuff done, I don't have time to READ THINGS SIDEWAYS! I'm pressing buttons, looking for help, and it's as useful as tits on a bull (which, if you didn't know beforehand, I'll tell you right now, is useless). I ended up Googling SIDEWAYS to find an answer! Ever tried to use your mouse and look at the screen with your head twisted sideways? Let me inform you now that it isn't easy, and the friggin' cursor does its own thing. I ended up finding the answer on a forum. A few easy clicks and I nearly fell off the chair in relief. THANK GOD! Evie just kept snoozing.

Then Mum asked why I didn't just take her off the desk. Seriously? Move the baby? NO!!! I mean - sheesh! Right? If you're a cat lover, you know what I'm going on about.

**THEO.** Darling Theo. Big boy, gentle giant, doesn't do much wrong. So one night two weeks ago I'm flopped on the sofa with my feet up on the footrest, and Theo is doing his Sphinx pose near my feet, and I notice a red thing just below his shoulder blades. Further investigation reveals a patch of no hair - and get this - no skin. This red patch with what looks like flesh and some kind of white strip (sinew? Bone? Fat? What?). Theo won't let us get a good look, and goes from Gentle Giant to Fearsome Bear, so as he wasn't bleeding we decided that Mum would hoon to the vet with him in the morning.

Next afternoon I get home from this course I was on for work, to find Theo walking around with the Cone of Shame around his neck. Not only that, he's ping-ponging back and forth between the glass door and the old sofa in the back room. I mean he kept bouncing off one, walk straight into the other, bounce off that and it just kept going. He was stuck in his version of a tennis table with him as the ball and the door and sofa as the bats. So I righted him up and set him off in the correct direction, so he just walked into the walls and into the fan instead, scraping the Cone of Shame against the wall, a little wild-eyed. After watching this torturous path for a few minutes, I finally took the Cone of Shame off because it was NOT doing him any good.

Good boy that he is, he didn't touch his stitches.

Oh yeah, I didn't tell you about his stitches. Theo had been stitched up with about 7 stitches, right across under his shoulder blades. This cat, who has lived in this house for about 12 yrs or so, and we'd never changed anything, had managed to cut himself on something sharp. Mum and I tore the house apart looking for the offending sharp object, searched the cattery, but nothing. Nadda. Zilch.

Not only a WTHell moment, but cue the Twilight Zone music as well. Maybe that should be The X-Files. Aw, what the heck, let's just do all three!

I took his stitches out yesterday with Mum's help. Damn if it wasn't a last insult to injury. Mum pinned him down, I got the stitches out...and now I realise I have to have glasses for close work because I had a hell time trying to see the itty-bitty stitches!!!! It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't struggled so much, but - OMG!

So quite an eventful time this last month!!!!! I might need another holiday....

Drama Queens

I have come to the realisation that I live in a house of furry Drama Queens. You'd think it would have dawned on me sooner, but I'm one of those who doesn't actually notice things, I just go with the flow - it's either that or curl up in a foetal position under the desk and whimper.

Let me give you a few examples of the Drama Queens in our house and what caused it (which really is just one example of the many, many dramas afflicting us at any given time).

Drama Queen No 1. Abby.

Abby has quite thick, longish fur. Unfortunately, that also resulted in some rather unattractive and malodorous dags forming near her bum. Now, Mum and I could have cut them off her in about twenty seconds. One dag each side (and I'm not talking about us). But did this happen? I think you know the answer.

Picture it - Mum holding Abby, me with a tiny pair of scissors and Abby glaring at me. I did a tentative snip, cooing "Who's a good girl, den, huh? Who's a sweet widdle pumpkin? Now hold still....hold still...stop...Don't... DON'T... HOLD STILL. HOLD THE FREAKIN' &%$@! STILL!"

Meanwhile, Mum's gone from, "There's a good girl. Abby's a good girl isn't she? Don't struggle, dear. Don't struggle Hold still. Hold STILL! DON'T - OUCH! SHE'S BITING!"

Within seconds the calm, controlled situation has deteriorated very rapidly into a knock-down, drag-out fight between Mum, me and Abby.

Abby wins.

While she's stalking away, tail lashing, dags blowing in the breezing, I'm yelling after her, "Right. RIGHT! You want it that way? RIGHT! You're off to the vet for a sedation and a fanny shave! What do you think of that, huh?"

The cat practically tossed her head.

So next day, off we go, Abby sitting upright in her cage casting me side-long looks and me trying not to feel like a heel for taking the baby to the vet. We're almost there when she starts crying and now I feel like a total turd. "I'm sorry, baby, but you wouldn't let us help you. You can't go around with those dags hanging off your a**e, it's both unattractive and attracts flies, making it only attractive to flies ha-ha." But my feeble attempt at humour isn't working - for either of us.

When I got home, Mum had already picked her up from the vet and now Abby is avoiding me. I try to win her affections back but she's not having any of it. Plonking herself in the middle of the floor, she shoots one back leg into the air and screams "My bum is bare!"

**Me:** Well, yes. Yes, it is.

**Abby** : How could you do this to me?

**Me:** You gave me no choice.

**Abby:** My bum is bare!

**Me** : I can see that. In fact, everyone can see it with your leg up in the air like that.

**Abby** : My bare bum has to sit on the floor and it is now a cold bum as well as bare!

**Me** : I can see that would be uncomfortable for you. Why don't you park your bare behind on the sofa instead?

**Abby** : My bum is bare!

**Evie** (looking over the edge of the table): Holy crap! Her a**e is naked!

**Me** : You're not helping matters.

**Evie** : Yeah, but did you see her a**e? My eyes hurt!

**Me** : Well stop looking at it then.

**Evie** : I can't help it - the sunshine is bouncing off it!

Don't ever count on Evie to calm things down.

Eventually Abby flopped her leg down and sulked off to the sofa. It took her two days to forgive me.

Drama Queen No 2. Theo

Theo is normally the quiet, controlled one of the family. He cruises around, jumping a couple of the furry lovelies he fancies and generally being quite agreeable.

Until it's time for his tablet.

Theo hates his tablet, he thinks it takes away his manhood to which he's entitled. He was sterilised at 6 months of age, but when he hit 4 yrs old he changed and became rather aggressive to the other cats, decided he was Casanova even without his family jewels, and also started spraying like his doodle was a fire hose out of control. Actually, it was out of control. It took a long time to get it back under control and his daily tablet helps keep him calm and _in_ control.

Apparently the tablet tastes like crap. If I don't get it down him first pop, the drama starts. In fact, it starts as soon as he sees me coming. He commences Operation Stealth which involves hiding under anything he can find, but when you're a big, strapping, silver tabby, it's kind of hard to avoid being seen.

So I trap him, prise his mouth open and put the tablet in. Now the drama starts. It starts quite small - a shake of the head, a grimace, and then it appears...a little drool.

This little drool starts to accumulate at an alarming rate, gushing out of his mouth in no time. He starts running around from one end of the house to another with this long rope of drool hanging from his mouth and growing longer by the second. It's like watching a miniature St Bernard going nuts.

I'm following behind with a rag, wiping up the swamps he leaves behind. I follow him through the house.

**Theo** : Argh! I'm poisoned!

Me: Don't be silly, it's just your medicine.

**Theo** : Help me! Help me! *drooldrooldrool*

**Me** : Don't go on the sofa!

**Theo** : I'm dying! *gag*

**Me** : Just stop it. *wipe wipe wipe*

**Theo** : It's following me! OMG - the taste is in my mouth! It's saturating me!

**Me** : No, that's the floor being saturated by YOUR drool.

Theo decides to sit down and start grinding his teeth, whiskers and cheeks screwed up like a rabid squirrel, teeth showing, practically all gums, nose screwed up and eyes squinted shut. "Yuckyuckyuckyuckyuck."

By the time he's finished I've practically mopped the whole house.

Drama Queen No. 3 Fleur

Fleur is a tortoiseshell with a typical torti nature. You never know which way she's going to go. During the day I can't touch her. She's horrified, backing away and darting out the door to scurry down the tunnel away from the Big Witch Who Will Eat Me.

Yet practically every day at lunchtime she comes mincing around the corner of the kitchen bench and looks coyly up at me. "I'm hungry."

**Me** : Oh, aren't you sweet. Does diddums want some yummies?

**Fleur** : eyeballs me a little nervously.

**Me:** Here, would you like some fish?

**Fleur** : No.

**Me** : Some chicken?

**Fleur** : Out of a can? Really? OUT OF A CAN?

**Me** : I'm sorry, Your Majesty. What would you like to tickle your palate?

**Fleur** \- slides a sideways look at Evie: I'll have what she's having.

So I get it out and give it to her.

Now the fun starts.

**Fleur** is horrified I'm near her: Good grief! You nearly touched me!

**Me** : I'm sorry. I didn't-

**Fleur:** What is your intention? Are you going to hit me? *prances away, prances back, eyes huge*

**Me** : Look, I was just trying to pat you-

**Fleur** : Don't touch me! DON'T TOUCH ME!

By now she's nearly hysterical and hoons off down the tunnel.

Now, it's a whole different ball game come night-time. Fleur parades up and down the back of the sofa looking anxiously at me and crying. "I want a pat."

**Me** : But you didn't want one earlier.

**Fleur** : But I want one now.

**Me:** What, you think I'm a different person?

**Fleur** : Pat me. Stroke me. LOVE ME!

I kid you not, by now she's demanding it, head butting my arm, trying to wriggle her head beneath my hand. The panic-stricken cat of just a couple of hours ago is now sticking to me like a burr. You just can't win.

This is the same cat that sleeps on the end of my bed every night.

Drama Queen No. 4. Evie

Yeah, that's a bit of a shock, isn't it?

Evie gets over-excited about pretty much everything. The other night a huge moth appeared on the wall. I thought Evie's eyes were going to fall out of her head when she saw it.

**Evie** : OMG! OMG! A CAT-EATING BAT!

**Me** : It's a moth, genius.

**Evie** : It's going to eat us all! I have to CATCH IT! NOW!

I woke up in the morning to find moth streaked all over my bedroom wall.

Evie sleeps with her beloved Granny, but if I have a day off, as soon as Mum goes to work at the school crossing, Evie jumps up on my bed and perches on my hip. She surveys the world, looks quite smug, and then I want to shift.

The drama starts.

**Evie** : Oh for - what are you doing?

Me: I have cramp.

**Evie** : So?

**Me** : I have to move.

I do the tiniest shuffle to try and ease my hip.

Immediately **Evie** grabs onto the doona like her life depends on it, eyes huge.

"OMG! Are you trying to tip me off?

**Me** : Look, I just shifted less than an inch-

**Evie** : You think you own this bed or something?

**Me** : Well, actually-

**Evie** : Do you not want me on it?

By now she's gripping the doona and is pressed flat on it.

**Me** : No, of course not, you're very welcome-

**Evie** : WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?

**Me** : My hand-

She springs upwards to sit and glare at me through narrowed eyes: Do you have to keep moving?

**Me** : I'm sorry, I'll be really still-

**Evie** : Too late. TOO LATE! You've already UPSET ME!

And then I see her backside disappearing around the door to go and wait in the lounge so that she can tell her beloved Granny how mean I am to her when Granny isn't there.

Drama Queens, the lot of them.

Today topped it. I had to worm them all. I'm no fool - I got the spot-on for the strugglers, and tablets for those I knew I could handle. Now Polly spits at me every time I go near her just in case I give her a second dose of POISON, Lacy is eyeing me warily, and Evie is jitter-bugging around the house like she's on a pogo stick because SOMEONE PUT POISON ON MY NECK AND I CAN FEEL IT _SLITHERING_ ALL OVER ME!

But the best of all is Fleur. She's still lying on my bed with her eyes screwed shut.

**Fleur** : I can't see now.

Me: I put it on your neck, not on your face.

**Fleur** : I can't see now.

**Me** : Just open your eyes.

**Fleur** squints them open a fraction then slams them shut again: I can't see now.

Then Mum pulls the car into the driveway and cats scatter. Fleur is down the tunnel and gone, Evie is waiting anxiously on the table to tell her all about what I did to them (and to nose through the shopping bags), Theo has collapsed in his basket quite exhausted by the whole ordeal, Abby is sitting on the kitchen floor with one leg up in the air saying not only is her bum cold and bare, but there's something nasty on her neck, too, Polly won't come in from the back veranda, Lacy is hunkered down on the back table trying to decide whether to spew the tablet up or not, and Lily...well...Lily is the calmest of the lot. The last I saw of her, she was lying on the little hammock on her back, furry belly up to the sunshine, getting a tan.

Wait, I actually have a cat who isn't a drama queen. Break out the trumpets!

IT'S A MIRACLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Great Food Debate & Furry Visitors

The furry horde are driving me nuts in the food department. Seriously. SERIOUSLY!

You know people who have cats because you can spot them hovering in the pet food aisles, anxiously surveying the vast assortment of tins and packets, trying to decide what Their Majesties will fancy. Liver in sauce? Fish in prawn juice? Beef in gravy? Prawn in crab jelly? It all sounds fantastic, but we all know how it ends. With the juice/gravy/jelly all sucked up and bits of fish left over while Their Majesties look at you and say, "Got any more gravy? 'Cause this is, you know, bland now I've sucked it all off."

Want these chocolate fings!

If you've never had this reaction from a cat, you either:

a) don't own one

b) feed it lots of gravy with only a bit of meat or fish

c) are a miracle maker.

I thought I'd be smart and bought a carton of gravy, which I proceeded to pour liberally over their bowls when they'd licked all the gravy away. I'll never forget the looks I got. I still shrivel in shame at the memory. I'd thought I'd gotten one over on the furry horde. Boy, was I mistaken. I can still remember all those furry bums stalking away...

While we're on the subject, have you ever tried to give your cats fish or meat out of the tin that has been in the 'fridge for longer than five minutes? Or, God forbid, a couple of hours? The way those cats look at you in disbelief? You know the looks, there are a couple depending on the cats' feelings at the time. There's:

a) the scornful 'are you kidding' look

b) the shocked 'are you _kidding'_ look?

c) the blatantly abusive ' are you *&%$@! kidding?!' look.

Sure to make any owner start grovelling and begging forgiveness for being such a thoughtless Mum or Dad.

We recently went through a food issue. Lily and Fleur were at the centre of it (I know, you thought I was going to say Evie, didn't you? Ha ha - surprise!).

Lily doesn't like cold fish from the tin, because it's been, you know, in the 'fridge since MORNING (oh grief, the horror of it!) and it's cold and nasty and she sits on the spot and tried anxiously to tell us how it's COLD and NASTY and she couldn't possibly eat it. Ever. Not even if she was STARVING. Apparently it's that yucky when it's cold. And no, she won't eat the 'roo meat Granny has put down, either, because she wants warm fish, not 'roo. Okay? Cripes, the things she has to put up with! And Fleur decides she's in full agreement, because if Granny breaks open a new tin to give Lily warm fish, then Fleur wants it too, because she does!

Mum always has some sachets of assorted fish for the two little strays who visit us every night for 'roo and fish, and apparently Lily LOVES this fish, and so does Fleur, so in all my wisdom I detour in to the supermarket on a busy pay day after work, manage to find a parking bay after ten minutes of circling the parking areas and swearing, sweat my way into the narrow spot, fight my way through the shoppers, and buy a basket full of all these yummy sachets of fish in sauces and gravy and prawn jelly and everything. Teeny tins with yummy stuff swimming in juices. I then battle my way to the checkout, pay a heap of bucks, manage to pop out of the people-swelled supermarket and find my car, sweat my way backing out of the narrow parking bay (which seems to have got narrower thanks to someone who parked partially over MY LINE!), wait for a million years while traffic holds us up, and finally I get home. Feeling rather like a cave woman bearing hard-fought-for food, I bring the grocery bags in and the cats 'ooh' and 'ahh' as they investigate the bags and give me their purrs of approval.

I'm floating on a cloud of heaven. I have done it! I have won the furries' approval!

With avid attention I watch as Mum breaks open the sachets and the cats gorge themselves, burp, thank me and waddle off to find a nice warm place to snooze. I did it! I am a God to my cats!

Two nights later it all came crashing down. Lily is sitting down screaming anxiously that she wants her fish! Fleur yells she wants what Lily wants!

Me: Didn't you give them the sachets?

Mum: Yes.

Me: So what's wrong?

Mum: They don't want it.

Me: What? (I'm dumb like that. You'd think I'd know, right?)

Mum: We'll just leave it out for them.

I go back inside after awhile and find all of them eating peacefully.

Me: So, they're enjoying the sachet fish from the cupboard, huh?

Mum: No. They're enjoying cold fish from the 'fridge.

Me: WTHell?

Mum: Don't look at me. They yelled until they got the fish from the 'fridge.

Me: But it's cold!

Mum: I know.

So now the furries swing between wanting cold fish from the 'fridge and warm fish from the cupboard, depending on their mood. I can't tell their mood. Mum can't tell their mood. NO ONE CAN TELL THEIR FREAKIN' MOOD! So we try to mix it up, cold some nights and warm some nights.

Then Lily looks at me: What's Evie having?

Me: She only eats little tins of meat and fish, not the big tins.

Lily: I want what she's having.

Fleur: I want what Lily wants!

Lily anxiously: I want! I want! I want!

Fleur: Me too!

Me: OMG! Okay! Okay!

And I break open several small tins and the rest of the horde comes in all demanding to have what Lily and Fleur and Evie are having and I give it to them, and some eat it, some look at it in disdain, and all of them lick the gravy and walk off leaving bits of forlorn meat in the dish.

Lily: So the gravy was great. Can I have my fish now?

Fleur: I'll have what she's having!

...and I call up in a fetal position and start rocking.

As if this wasn't enough, Evie is such a drama queen with her food. She has her's on the end of the kitchen bench because she picks and we have to keep her food out but also out of reach of Polly who is allergic to some of it.

Sounds easy, but sometimes your attention is caught by a tiny 'meow' and you look over to find Evie dancing on tip-toes as she anxiously looks at you out of HUGE eyes. I mean huge. Like saucer-sized. Accompanying this prancing (I kid you not. She prances - frantically) - is a lot of verbal anxiety. "I've got nuffin'! Nuffin'! Nuffin' at all or anyfing!" Prance Prance Prance. So her biscuit bowl is overflowing but Evie wants one of her tiny tins of food and if she doesn't get it right now, she is in danger of fading away from hunger, collapsing from starvation, and jittery from anxiety.

So I dig in the pantry for her little tin and she comes over and stares over my head, jumps on my back, lands in the pantry and does some investigating of her own. Eyes are huge and little feet prance-prance-prance while I dish it out and she hurriedly runs along the bench and meets me. I put it down - thank God we made it before she perished - she takes five licks, gets gravy up the wall and walks away. Leaving almost a whole saucer of food.

Lily appears by magic. 'I want! I want!"

Fleur bursts out from the bedroom. "I want what Lily wants!

I find my foetal position again and start rocking....

Evie's New Habit

So Evie has a new habit. I know - shocking! But this is it.

Evie has always slept with her beloved Granny (my Mum). She has her little blankie up between Mum's pillow and the wall. She goes to sleep with her head in Granny's hand. When it's cold, she crawls under the covers and cuddles up to Granny's chest. Granny is all hers.

If anyone dares to come on the bed - LOOK OUT. Just LOOK OUT! The little fire cracker goes gonzo and hunts them off. The other night she chased Theo out of the bed and down the passage. Man, he only has to sit on her and she'll disappear, he's so big in comparison to her. But size doesn't matter to Evie, she'll take anyone on who dares to pinch her spot. Yes, PINCH HER BLANKIE! She saw Lily asleep on her blankie one evening and I thought her eyes were going to pop clean out of her head. The absolute horror and disbelief on her face was a sight to see. I solved that by picking up Lily and taking her to my bed. I'm sure she did it deliberately, because she had her head hanging down watching Evie the whole way, and her tail was flicking.

Anyway, I've waffled off the path (as usual). Now, Evie seems determined to have Granny to herself every night all night. As soon as Mum turns off the light, I lie there reading and waiting, Sure enough, about ten minutes after I hear Mum's bedroom door creak shut slowly. Like really slowly.

Ccccccrrrrrrreeeeeeeeaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkkkk. It bounces off the door frame a little.

Next comes Mum's voice. "Evie, do you have to?"

Yes, apparently Evie does have to shut the door EVERY NIGHT! Mum has to get up and prop the door open so Evie can't shut it, then she carts Evie back to bed, and for the next couple of minutes you can hear Mum and Evie have this conversation, with Mum talking and Evie squeaking back, until they finally both settle.

Really, it's like the night isn't complete now until we go through this new behaviour!

Let The Fights Begin

Unbelievable. Mum and I are in a fight with certain elements around and in the house. Not to mention that Evie is NOT impressed.

Let's take this one fight at a time.

Fight 1 - Mum & Polly

So Mum and Polly are fighting. I tell you, it's not pretty (but it IS funny). So you're wondering what on earth my mother, who is placid and easy-going, is doing fighting with Polly, who pretty much minds her own business as long as no one GETS in her business.

Basically, Polly has decided that the current Best Spot Ever is right on top of Mum's jewellery box on the dressing table. This results in knocking off the alarm clock and whatever else happens to be on the dressing table at the time as she heaves her fat bum onto the dressing table, plops it down on the jewellery box and dares anyone stupid enough to try, to get her off.

Along comes Mum and all Hell breaks loose.

Mum: "What the \- why are you on there?"

Polly: "Because."

Mum: "I've told you a million times you're not to go on there!"

Polly: "What's your point?"

Mum: "Get _off_!"

Polly: "Don't you touch me!"

Mum: *grunts as she tries to lift Polly off*

Polly: Hiss*spit*yell*

Mum: ^%#! She's knocked the alarm clock off now!"

Angela: "Maybe that's because you knocked it off while trying to get her off?"

Mum: "Shut up!"

Note to everyone - this is what happens when you're dumb enough to try and offer comments that are, apparently, extremely unhelpful in this situation.

It continues -

Polly: "Let me go! _HELP_!"

Angela: "Why don't you just leave her-?"

Mum: "She's not staying there!"

Polly: "Yes I freakin' am!"

Mum: "No you're not. Get off!"

Angela: "She'll only get back up there."

Mum: "No she won't."

Polly: "Yes I freakin' will! It's the _Best Spot Ever_!"

Mum: *finally manages to dislodge Polly and plops her onto the chair beside the dressing table* "Now you can sit there."

Polly's eyes are huge, black and not friendly. "You really think so, huh?"

Angela: "You really think she'll stay there?"

Mum: "She will." Points at Polly. "You don't go up on my dressing table knocking stuff off. Now stay."

Angela: "She's not a dog. No way is she going to-"

Mum: "She will if she knows what's good for her."

No sooner does Mum walk away than I peek through the doorway and yep, Polly has her a**e on the jewellery box again.

This has been going on for nearly a week now. I think Polly has won. Here's proof which I got it just yesterday while Mum was working at the school crossing.

"Best Spot Ever, so there!"

Fight 2 - Evie and the Visitors

So we've had a busy time lately with visiting kitties coming to stay with us. There's sweet little old Renee (who is 20yrs old), Skitty and Jeffrey (come as a pair) and Freya (a wide-eyed pure tortoiseshell). They've all been coming and going, sometimes overlapping.

Now we all know Evie has to be Boss Cocky. Struts her stuff and all that. She literally walks the walk and talks the talk. So any cats visiting get her full attention.

Now, if cats come for a long period (say several weeks), we usually start to integrate them into the household after about3 days, so they can run with ours, but if they're only here for a few days or less than a week, I don't worry about going through the whole introductions. Besides, Evie always makes that a little hairy (no pun intend).

So Renee, unfortunately, cannot mix with ours, because old or not, she'll try to rip their faces off. Probably fall a***e over t*t while she does it because she's so frail, but nevertheless I don't want her having a heart attack while trying to knock another cat's whiskers off on our watch.

Skitty and Jeffrey were only here for about five days, so no point tempting fate (especially Evie) by trying the introduction thing.

Who's In There?!

But Freya was here for several weeks, so it was a case of introduction time.

Now, when cats are shut in the front room with just the screen door between them and the others, Evie struts past them, plays in front of the door, presses her nose to it and stares in at them (especially when they're using the litter tray, because unnerving them when they're trying to do their business is such fun), and basically parades past showing them that SHE is Boss Cocky, SHE has the run of the place, it's HER house and everything in it belongs to HER. She really enjoys this.

So let's come back to Freya. Freya is a happy, bright-eyed tortoiseshell, only about a couple of years old from memory (and my memory is in serious question, but I'm pretty confident I'm right on this), and she is ultra affectionate.

So along comes the day when we let Freya out. The rest of the cats look at her and go "yeah, whatever" and go back to sleep. Polly just warns her not to get near the jewellery box or dressing table - "My place, you, my _Best Spot Ever_!" - and then comes Evie.

Evie, Evie, Evie. Her ears perk up, her whiskers bristled, her whole little body starts to quiver with excitement because there's _fresh meat to torment_! She follows Freya as Freya prances around. Covertly, Evie slides from one piece of furniture to another, peers around the edges, pokes her head over the tops, sidles around the corners, the whole time keeping her prey in sight.

Freya, totally oblivious, dances around checking out everything, her eyes big and bright. (She really is a happy little cat).

Evie finally decides to reveal herself. TAH-DAH!!! "Cringe before me, you lowly peasant!"

Freya: "OMG! Someone to play with!" And proceeds to prance towards Evie.

This freaks out Evie. WTHell...? This thing isn't afraid of her? Something wrong here, people. Evie snaps upright, her ears go back, her eyes go wide.

Freya happily trots forward. "Hi! How are you? Wow! Play with me! Wooooow!"

Evie, totally freaked out because this thing doesn't recognize Her Majesty, backs up and disappears.

She spends the rest of the time that Freya is here either:

a) Hiding and peeking out at her

b) Sulking on Granny's bed

c) Strutting in front of the screen door at night when Freya is put back in there to sleep.

Yep, night time is when Evie struts her stuff. "Going to bed with MY Granny," she informs Freya, strutting past the door while Freya watches wide-eyed. "Going to MY bed with MY Granny," Evie adds, strutting back the other way. "Only I sleep on MY Granny's bed, 'cause I'm Boss Cocky and everything!" this she delivers as she slides herself along the door. Then she proceeds to look up at Granny, all sweet and coy, casts Freya another triumphant glance as she watches, and trots after Granny, hopping into bed on HER little blankie in HER special spot on HER Granny's bed, lays her little head in Granny's hand and goes to sleep.

STILL BOSS COCKY!!!

"I don't get it - how did Freya not know I am Boss Cocky?"

"I can't believe I live with this mob of yobbos!"

After Word

So that's just some of the things that happen in our household. As you can see, Evie is the main instigator of a lot of it, with a few bits from the others. But mostly naughty Evie! Hope you've enjoyed a peek at our furries!

Boss Cocky!!

Ahhh....life in the fast lane!

BIO

Angela Verdenius lives in Australia where she is ruled by her cats, adores reading, and thinks a perfect day is writing and drinking Diet Coke, followed by reading or a good horror movie.

To date, she has written numerous novels in sci-fi romance series and BBW contemporary romances, 2 novellas, and several short stories, one of which is a zombie story she had great fun writing. Her books have won many reviewers' awards, as well as having been on the Fictionwise best-seller list and winning the Golden Rose Award.

To join her monthly newsletter for updates and new releases click here

Her website <http://www.angelaverdenius.com/>

The lighter side of life on her blog Cats, Books & Life

Her Author Page Smashwords:

You can also connect with her on Goodreads

Keep reading for a list of all available books in both ebook and print.

Other Books by this Author

Non Fiction

Kitties from the Blog

BBW Romances

Big Girls Lovin' trilogy

Doctor's Delight

Cop's Passion

Vet's Desire

The Lawson Boys duet

The Lawson Boys: Alex

The Lawson Boys: Marty

The Virgin Sex Queen

The Mackay Sisters duet

Call on Me

Lean on Me

Seducing Sam

Adam's Thorn

The Goodbye Girl

The Gully's Fall series

Burn for You

Fall for You

Lie to Me

Fly with Me

You're The One (part of the series, not BBW)

Second Chance

Heart & Soul sci-fi romance series

Heart of an Outlaw

Soul of a Mercenary

Heart of the Betrayed

Love's Sweet Assassin

Soul of a Hunter

Love's Bewitching Thief

Heart of the Forsaken

Soul of a Witch

Heart of a Traitor

Soul of the Forgotten

Love's Beguiling Healer

Heart of a Peacekeeper

Soul of a Predator

Love's Winsome Warrior

Heart of a Smuggler

Soul of a Guardian

Love, Heart & Soul Moments

Shattered Soul

Box Set

Heart & Soul bks 1 - 2

Novellas sci-fi

Operation Seduction (BBW)

Blast from the Past

Free Short Stories

Zombie Hospital

Perceptions

