Everyone that has a cat will know that the cats rule the world. There’s a reason why the Bond villains have a cat on their lap- the cat is actually the villain and the hapless human just falls in with the malevolent plan. Our current cat is called Mr Burns. He’s called Mr Burns because he has a Hitler moustache
( http://www.catsthatlooklikehitler.com/cgi-bin/seigmiaow.pl
but I wasn’t allowed to call him Adolf because that wouldn’t have been politically correct. At the time we had two other cats called Bart and Homer so the villain became Mr Burns.
Bart and Homer came from the local rescue centre. They were matching black and white cats with perfect dinner suits and spats. They were sold as two brothers but were more likely father and son (the clue is in the name). We got them as a bribe to make sure the kids wanted to visit us in our little terrace in Monton, and because no house looks complete without a pet of some sort.
When we moved to Frodsham the cats discovered bliss- we moved in the middle of the August 2003 heat wave and I vividly remember them dancing around the garden in the dark chasing moths; after skulking around the bins and alleyways of Monton, green leafy Frodsham must have been a revelation.
I had a friend who had lots of kittens and cats, but the cute kittens were always grey or tabby, so didn’t match and were easily resisted: of course one acquires cats by colour matched sets. Then one day this little black and white kitten bounced out of Judith’s spare stable and I knew we were doomed. He doesn’t have a perfect dinner suit, he’s a bit dishevelled but he matched and he was super confident and so he became ours.
At the time we had a long-term house guest. Auntie Laura had broken both feet sleep-walking out of the balcony of her first floor flat in London onto a concrete slab. Initially she stayed with her sister who wouldn’t let her drink and take painkillers (spot the problem when there is nothing else to do for 6 weeks in plaster) so she came to stay with us. We said she couldn’t bring her dog as the cats were already traumatised enough by the arrival of the crazy kitten so Laura taught the kitten to behave like a dog. He doesn’t sit to command anymore but he does greet you at the door and come for walks and generally is much more affectionate and engaging than your average cat. He was a barn cat who took to home comforts like a complete professional; he must have thought all his Christmases had come at once. He is a brilliant mouser, and ratter, and badger baiter, but his best days are duvet days, spread out on your chest, testing his needle sharp claws on your belly and swiping you for a cuddle every time your attention wanders.
It’s just Mr Burns left now: the tale of the other cats is for another day. He has paid Laura back by training Ernie the pointer puppy.
We acquired an old suite off a mate; the chair was earmarked for the dog. We have several pieces of Vetbed: incredibly expensive puppy proof fleecey mat. All the cat has to do is sit in the middle and stretch out and the dog must sit in discomfort on the hard cold floor. Watching the cat ignore the dog’s shenanigans has taught me a huge amount about animal training. It’s all about infinite patience and never changing the question.
