Driving cats, Shingy goes X-rated, whatever next? Cont…

18 Mar

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Ninja, Carnyorth, Cornwall circa 2001.

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Pawn star in person outside my office window enjoying the sunshine and not catching any voles despite his best efforts at home in Carnyorth, Cornwall, end Feb 2001.

To approach this most delicate subject with some sense of decency, to give you a clue, granted, Ninja is a bit depraved. Will she ever grow out of sniffing Tom’s dirty underpants and socks and wanting her bottom smacked?


I knew her ‘uniqueness’ would be passed on down the genes but to this extent? Shingy can be considered strange but not half as strange as you realise. I’m still in two minds as to whether I should share this with you, or not. I mean… it’s embarrassing on a gargantuan scale.

Er, well, it’s like this.

Shingy is a virgin. He’s never been known to utilise his lipstick for anything other than his daily habits. The castration took place when he was a few months old. One minute he had bobbles with which to take care of, to proudly show off in the communal showers when the next – they’d gone. In one snip they went from a decent-sized pair of acorns to a couple of frozen peas. Sounds horrible, I agree, but unpreventable because try as I did, Shingy couldn’t get the hang of birth control. His claws got in the way and rendered every single contraceptive useless.

Put it this way, this type of contraception works better when intact. Better? I mean, it takes just one pinprick and you’re up a gum tree.

All right, back to embarrassing matter in hand. Hmm… is it hot for the time of year? What do you mean, no, get on with it you cowardy custard.

All right!

Shingy does porn. There! I said it.

Or should that be pawn?

It happens only when I’m in bed (don’t you dare say naturally) and only when certain conditions are imposed. No, not when the whips, chains and ice cream are to hand. Good grief! Maybe I’ve made more of this than there is.

Ice cream?

I have to be lying flat on my back and the bed covers must be right up under my chin (I imposed that) and only then will he jump up on top of me and begin. He gets into position. A sort of humpback whale pose ensues as his front paws slowly start to pull and claw at my duvet. I hang on to it with grim determination and the tips of my fingers but still it starts to creep its way down. It soon turns into a battle of wits. Who wins? Who’d you think! Not fair, he doesn’t have ME. That’s all there is to it except, should Tom walk in unexpectedly, Shingy will stop what he’s doing and jump off the bed.

It’s like the cold shower effect.

Every now and then he’ll interrupt himself and pause to glance over his shoulder to check the coast is clear before continuing. Meanwhile, I’m lying there underneath him like a hot dog wrapped up in its bun desperately praying this is the time he doesn’t turn around rendering my face two inches away from his frozen peas. On such occasions I have known to become the heavy parent and push him away.

I do have a cut-off point, thank you. I think it’s pretty liberal of me to allow him to do what he does in the first place. Only fair really. Ninja gets to nibble and dribble on my head while administering acupuncture and Shingy gets to do his thing but did it have to be that?

I don’t recall when it first began. It’s not exactly something you write up in your diary, is it. I didn’t know what he was up to until he was in full throttle by which time it seemed a shame to interrupt him. And so there we go! Happily it’s not a once a week event, more like once a month, on no particular day. Or time.

Sometimes, while under the spell of hypnotic animation, he’ll slip and I’ll get a back paw skidding across my chin with claws slightly extended. One time my nose got the full brunt of it. Thank goodness for make-up is all I can say. The whole thing lasts for about five minutes during which time his back legs start to wobble and they become bow-legged like Charlie Chaplin’s. His eyes resemble full moons along with a hypnotised look that makes them glaze over and I swear he has a silly grin plastered all over his face… until pow!

That’s it.

He jumps off the bed and toddles away. Not to smoke a cigarette, very funny, but I tell you this much. If he ever, ever, plants a wet nose on my cheek afterwards THAT’S IT! Africa it is. One-way ticket. Time to meet the cousins. Get some space between us.

Now I’ve managed to lose whatever street credibility I had, I’ll carry on with my story about my rapidly approaching classic car that is becoming more so with each passing minute.

As am I.

All right, what really happened?

Well, it is true we did climb into the car and find a hair belonging to Shingy on the area surrounding the gearstick that is still in need of a polishing. Must remember to bring my beeswax-environmentally-friendly polish outside and buff that up. It got me thinking. What if Shingy was taking the car out at night? Cruising. I embellished the story somewhat, this I confess. I do hold my hand up to that. With cats like Ninja and Shingy one does not need to embellish but in this case, I did.

It’s just that his hairs turn up everywhere.

It doesn’t matter if you take a trip to an office you’ve never been to before. There will be a Shingy hair waiting to greet you. It’s got so I look out for it. I can’t settle until I’ve come across it.

“So nice to meet you, Mr Brooke,” I say, pumping his hand in greeting while furtively glancing about me at the same time. “I knew it! There it is!”
“I beg your pardon?”
It’s the same in shops. “Hello, can I help you?”
“Yes, do you have this shirt in the same size but in black?”
“Yes, here we are.”
“Thank you,” I reply before screaming and pointing like a gibbering idiot as I spy a Shingy hair on the collar.
Tom opened up his new tub of margarine at work and guess what was in there? That’s right! Margarine. Was it alone? Of course it wasn’t!

There is something to be said of Rex cats… as ugly (but in a good way) as they are. It’s bizarre. It’s as if… hello? That sounds like the car. Must be Tom. As I was saying, it’s as if… eh? Tom’s still in the house. I can hear Lara Croft. Wait a minute. Let me look out the window. Hmm… it appears to be a car that looks just like ours. Staggering off down the road. Talk about bunny-hops! That’s strange. All I can see in the driver’s seat are outlines of what looks like two little triangles bobbing up and down.

Forgotten what I was going to say except don’t take this seriously, obviously it’s fabrication. Sadly, apart from the pawn. Two triangles bobbing up and down? Got it! It’s one of those hats that are all the rage. A woollen article with a flap that folds back on to the top of your head that from a distance looks like two little pyramids, yes, most cool. Wish I had one.

Driving cats? Ha! Ha! As if. Yes, sure, absolutely. Naturally it’s a hat, I mean, what else could it be.

Big, big, universally huge thank you to all you kind souls out there who take the time to visit my page and / or Like and / or Follow me and I will, I really will get around to visiting each and every one of you but for the moment I need to divert my incapacitated energy to other things which will also have an affect on my weekly blog resulting in an intermittent blog. So I might see you in a week or it might be a month. Don’t forget me. I won’t forget you. Be kind to yourselves, your kids, don’t eat sugar eat STEVIA instead. Anon, R.

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Ninja taking time out from eating or rolling around in knickers and socks or dribbling all over my head.

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Posted by on March 18, 2014 in Uncategorized


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