Right, let me start with the cats... (in fact, I've just decided to break this down into two separate posts)
I took him to the vet yesterday and I knew what we might be in for. He hates travelling by car and he hates being manhandled even more. So, after him literally ripping the travel box to pieces (he muscled up to that cage and tore out 7 of the 8 screws and the metal grill at the front, gives you some idea about is temper) we finally made it there and I let him out of the box. Once we had caught him the vet tried to examine him, not before I issued a last word of warning. The vet tried to have a good look at his injured leg while I was trying to hold him as instructed. Next thing I hear the vet scream out, he had bitten him clean through the hand and when it was time to examine his teeth, he sank his claws and teeth into the vet a second time, upon which it was decided to just give him a couple of painkilling and antibiotic shots and see how he would to till the followup examination on Wednesday.
The vet then told me that should he not have improved by then, we would have to take him to their other surgery as they didn't do full anaesthesia there and it seemed somewhat unlikely to our cat would be more cooperative on the next visit.
Yep, I knew it. He may be only a small and skinny cat, but by Jove he is a killer alright.
On the other side of our garden fence there used to live a lady with this huge orange tomcat. He must have been about three times the size of ours. That still didn't deter ours from taking him to pieces when the orange tom decided to enter our house. The whole of the back hallway was full of blood and fur with bits of skin still attached. Needless to say that the orange tom never came back for seconds.
We are proper cat lovers I guess. Their independent spirit and their somewhat fickle loyalty are probably what attracts us most. Never take a cat for granted and NEVER claim you OWN a cat. He may own you, but certainly not the other way round.
Keeps you on your toes, that's for sure.
He was a feral cat as well when he decided to adopt us or better me, my wife is tolerated when she dishes out the occassional treat but in general he feels more comfortable with me.
Where we previously lived, he must have been living under a discarded mattress in some overgrown backgarden for a while. He was really scruffy, skinny and looked generally unhealthy. Over time I managed to get him to approach the house, first feeding him on the patio, then just inside the utility room, the kitchen and finally, using plenty of tinned tuna, up in our lounge on the first floor. Took almost 6 month to get that far with him and unfortunately, it had one undesirable side-effect, he now refuses to feed on wet cat food anywhere else but from under our coffee table. Hey, you don't expect me to eat alone in the kitchen, do you?
Oh, he is a funny fella.
He loves having his head and neck rubbed real hard. He'll climb up on the settee, lie down on a cushion or blanket and as soon as you get your hand near his head, he will literally ram his head into your hand with all the power he can muster. It is a sight to behold, I tell you.
Yes, he is full of little quirks like this, making him more loveable every day.
I can only guess that he used to have an owner at one time, he was perfectly housetrained when we got him but one thing I did notice he hates and will turn on me even, is when I lift my arm over the top of my head. That's it and I had better seek serious cover.
Oh what the heck, might as well put a name to him, despite google probably connecting his name to more information about me. He's Pretty Boy and there is a bit of a story to that name, which in the end brings us back to the original TV topic.
I think it must have been in 2009, it was while watching Doctor Who, the double episode 'Silence in the Library' and 'Forrest of the Dead', where David Tennant is calle'd by what eventually turns out to be his future wife by the nickname 'Pretty Boy'. Well, that was it. I immediately knew that that would be his name from now on. Before that I used to call him cat, you, all sorts of things but that nickname seemed just so fitting (I'll attach a couple of small pics of him, gives you and idea).
As for your cat. Look at the bright side. They are wonderfully independent companions but as I said, their loyalties are fickle, maybe that was in part what your mum was referring to. Sneaky, no I don't think so, that's too much of a human trait but opportunistic, definitely. One thing for sure, most dog lovers tend to have a problem with cats and vice versa. Dogs are for obedience, cats for a nice dose of anarchy.
And yes, once you decided to be adopted, you shouldn't go back on it. A cat will find a new home or survive out on the streets but I don't feel comfortable with it.
We currently have two. Pretty Boy and Prinz (he was the runt of Pretty Boy's and Mitzi's litter and my wife wanted him). Both male, neither of them neutered, yet oddly enough, inside the house they get on really well with each other. Once you open the backdoor, different kettle of fish alltogether. LOL. Pretty Boy takes great delight in chasing his son up and down the footpath by the side of our house, while Prinz likes pouncing on him from the outside stairs leading up to a second entrance on the first floor.
Apart from those two, we feed about 6-7 other cats from the neighbourhood. Yes, our expenditure for cat food alone is quite significant. Partly, because nearly year round we have the backdoor into the garden open all day until late, so, it is kind of an open invitation really.