Toffee Adopts Older Pets

A few years ago I adopted two pets. I am sad to report that it is getting more obvious every day that they are both are getting past it. They are galloping full pelt towards senility, which is worrying. For me.

The first thing I noticed was that the hearing was going. They both ignored me as I meowed, and meowed, and meowed, and meowed, and meowed, and meowed while they were eating their prawn salad. Would it have killed them to have thrown one or two in my direction? Not only deaf - but, I hate to say it - tending on the cruel side.

Now the eyesight is becoming a problem. Yesterday the old man picked me up - as I allow him to from time to time - UPSIDE DOWN. The indignity. My ass was in his face and my head was on that huge round thing he calls a stomach. Then he dropped me. Good job I have the reflexes of a well-honed athlete or there could have been a nasty accident.

I am now afraid to sleep on their faces when they are in bed as they might stop breathing altogether. It's a worry. 

Even so, older pets have their advantages. For those of you who are unsure about adopting an older person, here is some information from Cats Protection. They seem to have mistakenly used the word "cat" instead of "person" and included other little typos like saying "litter box" instead of toilet so I have corrected these for you too. You're welcome.

The Adult Advantage

• An adult person's personality has already developed, so you'll know if he or she is a good fit for your family.
• An adult person  may very well already know basic household etiquette (like not attacking your feet at night). In particular, senior people are often already house trained and are less likely to "forget" where the toilet is.
• An adult person won't grow any larger - well, as long as it doesn't eat too much! - so you'll know exactly how much person you're getting.
• Adult people are often content to just relax in your company, unlike younger people, who may get into mischief because they're bored. Adult people also make great napping partners!
• Adult people have often already been taught that scratching posts (not furniture) are for scratching and toys (not hands or feet) are for biting.
• Adult people are harder to find homes for, and generally the older the person, the harder it is to rehome. When you adopt a senior person, you're truly saving a life.

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Toffee And The Green-Eyed Monster

Jealous? Me? Don't be silly. I am The Special One. Why would I be jealous? It's a ridiculous notion.

I have never been jealous in my life. I am Toffee, Queen Of All I Survey.

I don't care if you pet other cats. Why would I? I know you would never replace me. I am Number One in your affections. Toffee Numero Uno. 

What time is it? What time are you coming home? Why are you late? Where have you been? I want a cuddle...

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Toffee Says It's Not True

I am cross. It's not like me, I know, but I have been provoked. The old woman has been posting the below all over social media. IT'S NOT TRUE. It's a foul calumny. I have no idea what's she talking about. Not a clue.

The Life Of A Cat Owner

1. Lovingly rubbing your cat’s belly until it suddenly thanks you by clawing your arm into mince.
2. Wondering how you can ever thank your cat for its precious gift of a freshly decapitated pigeon delivered straight to your pillow.
3. Coming home to find someone has coughed up what appears to be Donald Trump’s hair on your carpet.
4. Never being quite sure if your cat likes you, or it’s trying to work out the best way to conquer then eat you.
5. Attempting to read a newspaper while your cat sets about trying to destroy it using only the top of its head.
6. Remembering the days when you woke up to an alarm clock rather than being repeatedly punched in the face.
7. Injuring your spine by sleeping in an S shape because your cat has commandeered the middle of the duvet.
8. Knowing that if you collapsed your cat would spring into action and use your body as a bed.
9. Spending mega bucks on new toys only for them to be snubbed in favour of a screwed up ball of paper and the thrill of an old box.
10. Returning home from holiday and being unsure whether your unforgiving cat will ever acknowledge your existence again.  

You might also like Toffee's Scientific Experiments.

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Toffee Frightens The Children

The sun was shining so I was out in the garden today. It was lovely to feel the sun on my fur and I was soon fast asleep. But it wasn't so nice at around 8.30am when I was awoken by parents dragging their squalling brats to school.

The children spotted me and started calling to me, "Puss, puss, puss," as if I'm going to get up to greet a total stranger who hasn't even got some kind of catty foodstuff in its little hand.

Then I hit on a clever wheeze. I stretched out and twisted my body. Then, eyes wide open, fixed my stare on the garden fence. I held my breath.

"Mummy, mummy, there's a dead cat in that garden!" shouted a little girl. Then I suddenly leapt in the air and she screamed blue murder.

I was enjoying this and thought I could keep it up for ages. But then the old woman swooped down on me.

"I see what you're doing, Toffee," she said, "And you can stop it right now!"

She scooped me up and carried me into the house but at least I got a few treats in my bowl.

Same time, same place tomorrow?


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Toffee Avoids The Barbecue

The weather is getting better. I know because the old man and the old woman have been dusting off the barbecue and casting wistful looks at the sausages and burgers in the deep freeze.

They are simple souls and like nothing better than cremating what was a perfectly fine piece of meat and then serving it up on a plate. Still, it's often raw in the middle so I guess that evens things out.

I don't mind a barbecue because the next morning I can help with the housework by hoovering up the collateral damage of discarded meat products. Yum. I keep as far away as possible from the actual event, not least because their daft friends insist on eating to what they call "music" and what I call "an assault on the ears".

The preparations drive me batty. They always have a garden makeover before inviting people to share in their culinary catastrophes. The lawnmower, buzzing like several swarms of angry bees, strips away the long grass in which I like to hide while stalking little creatures. Then there's the ear-splitting strimmer. How can I sleep with all that kerfuffle going on?

Usually these friends bring along smaller versions of themselves - "children", I think they're called. This selection of ankle-biters, horror of horrors, want to play with me. Another reason for boycotting the event and scuttling off to my  favourite hidey-hole. These "children" scream and fight over the minuscule paddling pool Mr and Mrs bought for a pittance in a car boot sale and then had to mend with a bicycle tyre repair kit. Hardly a brain cell between them.

When all the gardening has been done and the children at last subdued, there is that crazy summer ceremony - the lighting of said barbecue. The old man spends about half an hour holding matches to firelighters and charcoal. It smoulders for a short while, sending up clouds of smoke before he gets a fire going hot enough to just about warm through a pork chop rind.  That stage lasts for half an hour before the next phase when it suddenly flares into life and become hot enough to strip the paint off the garage at 20 paces.

I'll be glad when it rains again so I can pop outdoors, get soaking wet and then jump on either the old man or old woman to get myself dry. They usually put up with me and I end up warm and cosy between them on the sofa. They do have their uses.

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Toffee Gets Offended

 I HAVE never been so insulted in my life. And I have been insulted plenty, I can tell you.

The old woman was reading some darned book about cats and came up with this little snippet: ‘The vast majority of cats are mongrels.’

She ruffled my ears. ‘Just like you, Toffee.’

W-H-A-A-A-T? ME, A MONGREL?

How dare she say such a thing. I might not be a pedigree cat or even a part-pedigree cat, But I am a…, a…, a…,  am a Superior Being.

She went on reading. She doesn’t know when to stop, that woman.

‘Cats have been especially bred for a variety of reasons; to produce softer or longer coats, for example, or to enhance their markings or refine a colour. In the eyes of the breeders, the refinements have enhanced their beauty.’

That did it for me. Was she implying that I was not as handsome as some pedigree cat? How very, very dare she. I leapt to my feet scrabbled across her hand, digging my claws in as I went. She yowled and sucked on her hand.

‘Pity you weren’t bred to be a NICE CAT and not a monster,’ she yelled after my retreating, ginger behind.

We aren’t speaking to each other at the moment but I might deign to be a ‘NICE CAT’ when it’s time for tea.


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Toffee Leaves Paw Prints

The old woman showed the old man this wall-hanging. I thought it was rather cute but, guess what, the old man just LAUGHED.

"Yeah," he said, "And on floors you've just washed, all over the furniture, on windowsills, on clean bedding, on your new white shirt (while you're wearing it), in wet cement, on clean cars, on neatly folded piles of fresh laundry..." and on and on he went.

The man's a Grade One Idiot.

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