Posts Tagged ‘Cats’

Diddy Catz

I haven’t told you about Diddy Catz – we found Diddy on the internet, a five year old medium long haired tabby. He has been living with us since last Saturday, when we collected him from the animal shelter. His owners had ‘moved away’ (wankers) and had dumped him. He had been at the shelter for about five days when we went to visit him for the first time last Monday – we were met with a very miserable cat, who the staff were afraid of because he seemed a bit scratchy and bitey – basically because he was pissed off!

* Abandoned Kitty *

* Abandoned Diddy *

We left, vowing to return on the Friday with Son, so he could give Diddy the once over. When we arrived, Diddy had been moved to an outside enclosure where he had hidden and wouldn’t come out. As we weren’t sure of his nature we came to an arrangement to foster him for 4-6 weeks and see how he does in a home environment. We brought him home on Saturday and now it’s day four and Diddy is starting to come out of his shell and his depression is lifting. He spends most of his time under Lurky’s bed but he’s venturing out now and again and being sociable – he is a gentle giant with an edge. I love Diddy Catz, I’m going to adopt him – I just hope he doesn’t take a piss on the leather sofa again tonight!

* i-Diddy *

* i-Diddy *


Emotional Guidance Scale

“What so many people desire, especially when they’ve felt deep suffering, longing or misery is to BE the opposite. 

The trick is to realise as human beings that we only have access to an emotional step in either direction on the scale; we can’t just jump to joy!

So the idea is to accept where you are and reach for some feeling that is a positive step for you.”


Since the death of my dear cat Bree-Anna, I have been feeling really low, right down at number 22 on the Emotional Guidance Scale. Gradually though I have started to move up and tonight I find myself at number 12, mixed with a bit of 10. Tonight I am totally fucked off and fed up because it’s been raining for four days solid and I can’t go out and walk my fat arse off – it’s not really fat, I know this because having lived in track-suit bottoms for weeks on end, my  jeans went on no problem – that’s something that could send some people soaring up to number 1 on the scale. Having identified myself at number 10 at best, this is below boredom, at number 9 – boredom is one of my least preferred emotions and in fact I prefer being at a painfully frustrated and disappointed number 10 because at least it’s a feeling. In getting to number 10 I did have to pass through some rather unpleasant numbers, such as number 21; guilt – yes, I did feel guilty that my cat got run over. After all, letting an inexperienced black cat out at night is asking for trouble. Number 19 kicked in a couple of days later, where I chose to vent my hatred and rage on people driving cars down my road; I considered barricading the road with dustbins and making the traffic in either direction turn around; cat killers, the fucking lot of them! Fuck the police, fuck the council, I’ll tell them about people who drive too fast and kill people’s cats outside their homes! – that was number 18. Number 19 also extended to a couple of suspect neighbours who could have done the deed; cunts. Anger was a real relief once the hatred and revenge died down, although they too were driven by anger (in at number 17). I moved through from number 16 to my current 12, without a hitch and now, if only the fucking rain would stop and I could go out and walk and listen to my music, I think I could even achieve a number 7.




We have had our cat for two weeks. Apparently we need to keep her in for one more week and then she can explore outside, which she is nagging to do. Her new name is Breee-Anna, named after the noise she makes to alert you to her presence – Breee. The Wood Green Animal Shelter emailed me today to ask for an update on her progress and some photos of her in her new environment. I assured them that she was feeling well at home.

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I adore my garden birds. I feed them diligently and know each of them by name. I am terribly upset, as I fear that my favourite wood pigeon, Mr Wood Pigeon, has been attacked, mauled and killed by the local cat – he’s a big mother – and he is now decomposing in next door’s overgrown garden.

I knew that a tragedy had occurred when I went out this morning and saw an array of feathers on the lawn. I hoped that the bird had managed to get away but then he was found later, unidentifiable except for all his pigeon feathers scattered around the decaying corpse.

The only bird I saw since this incident today is my collared dove, Angharad, so until I see him again, I will have to think the worse and may Mr WP RIP.

N.B. If it was Mrs WP then that’s just as bad; they were so in love.


Killing time just got a lot funnier !

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