Toffie Goodness

*28/6 Update! Toffie may not have to go to the SPCA after all! *fingers crossed

Hi everyone. Meet Toffie.

Toffie is a nice, caramel colour, but to make things easier for the owner and the cat, he's been named Toffie. Toffie's a he because after searching the web, it's been established that his anatomy resembles more of a male cat than that of a female's. Also, Toffie is not exactly very coy around the resident cat. He is a big bully.

Seconds after this picture was taken, Toffie walked over to the resident cat's bowl and ate from there. Not happy with the fact that the resident cat still continued eating without walking away, Toffie lifted up his tiny paw and swatted at the big cat's head. The resident cat, though extremely boyish- and daft-looking (like Hugh Grant), was not a pushover. He rose to his full height and Toffie ran away whimpering. Having said that, both cats were left alone at home today after three nights of socialising, and both are unscathed after a whole day without supervision. The resident cat is grudgingly happy to have a companion while the little one is happy to have three meals and a soft bed everyday.

At night, Toffie prefers to sleep with a human, especially if he was given permission to sleep on the pillow, or with his face next to the human's, or with his belly tucked under the human's chin. He will not have it any other way. In the day, Toffie is a marvellously clever tyrant who runs so fast all that can be seen is an orange blur. As much as he is a clinger during bedtime, Toffie is an independent trooper during daytime. There has never been any cat like Toffie.

Unfortunately, Toffie will be going to the SPCA tomorrow, where his future is just as bleak as was the time before he was picked up from the streets.

Little Caramel

I was at the coffeeshop at the corner of the street where my office is, minding my own business and buying my morning tea, when suddenly, I heard a distinctive meow coming from under one of the tables by the road. A caramel kitten was pawing at the guy's feet, and he was unceremoniously pushing the kitten away with his foot.

I turned away, trying to ignore what I was seeing. Then from the corner of my eye, I saw one of the stallholders moving towards the kitten with a plastic bag in his hand. Suspecting the worst but not wanting to react too soon, I waited silently from where I stood. I couldn't see what the man was doing, but when he finally walked off, his plastic bag was empty. The cat must have run off in fright. Then it occurred to me that we were by the side of the road, where there were many cars parked.

I ran to the nearest car, which was just about to drive off, and banged loudly on the door to alert the driver. He looked at me in horror but I didn't have time to be politically correct. I looked down, and there the kitten was, hiding in front of one of the wheels. I coaxed the kitten out from its hiding place, which took forever, and carried it against my chest. I then retrieved my tea and walked off with the meowing kitten back to my office, aware that there were at least ten pairs of eyes boring down my back.

Little Caramel is probably between five to seven weeks old, sex undetermined as yet, has a stubby tail, and has a very distinctive meow. Email me immediately if you'd like to bring Baby home. It's the most adorable thing and I'd really hate to bring it to the SPCA. Take this as a very earnest plea.

The Island of Cats - A Week After

My cat would have made a lot of friends there.

For the love of Cats.

He bought me a book on cats.

Suicide Cat

My scaredy cat tried to be Spiderman today.

My mum was mopping the floor at night, when she heard a soft meow. Thinking that it was just a stray, she ignored it and continued with the housework. She then walked past my cat's water bowl and found it dry, so she refilled it and called out for my cat. She heard my cat's soft reply, so, thinking he was at the balcony, she brought the bowl to the balcony and waited for him to come running in.

He didn't.

What she heard instead was my cat's pitiful whines which reminded her of the time she had locked my cat in the shower room. Thinking the worst, she looked over the balcony and saw my cat crouching precariously on the upper ledge of my neighbour's opened window, looking up at her with Puss-in-boots eyes. My mum shrieked in horror, but promptly ran to the kitchen to grab a clothes pole to use it to alert my neighbour downstairs. My quick-thinking neighbour grabbed an empty box and placed it under him, and with my mum's prodding with the pole, my cat hopped safely into my neighbour's arms.

We deduced later that he must have leapt onto my neighbour's window in pursuit of a butterfly, and unable to find stable ground because he had all four limbs in a straight line like a tightrope walker, couldn't jump back up onto our balcony.

To think I had come home that night unaware that my cat had such a close shave with falling to his death because he behaved as he would on a normal day whenever I got home, rubbing his cheeks against my ankles and hampering for a treat.

The next day, we left the balcony door open again to test his reaction to the traumatic experience he must have had the night before. Unfazed, my silly cat walked towards the end of the balcony and slipped his body through to the unsafe side of the railings. Apparently, my cat likes living his life on the edge.

I'll see you in your next life.

Today, I learnt the bad news of the plight of two new cats I have recently come to love. As much as I hate what has and is going to happen, I know deep down in my heart that this is for the best. As I come home everyday to the ever-reliable tinkling of the bell from my own cat's neck, I will see the cats' faces reflected off my baby's round, inquisitive eyes.

As if acknowledging my emotions, the rain poured down tonight.

And oh, how it rained.

Look at what my cat brought in

I heard a commotion in the kitchen so I ran there, thinking that my cat might have toppled over something. I saw my cat sitting on the counter with one paw on an overturned plastic container, looking all smug and excited. When I got closer, I realised that he had ingeniously caught, some way or another, a gorgeous butterfly with the container. It was off-white but its wings were outlined intricately in black.

Horrified, I screamed at my cat to release it. Not only did he refuse to let me go near it, he actually shuffled the container around, causing the poor butterfly to flutter loudly inside. It was a terrible thing to witness. Distracting my cat as best as I could, I slid the window behind him open and then quickly flipped the container over. The butterfly sprang to life, but my sadistic cat was too quick. He had Whitey under his paw.

I screamed my head off and begged the would-be murderer-cat to go away. Instead he jumped off the counter with Whitey in his mouth. After five minutes of hysterics from me and the capture-and-release thing that cats are so inclined to do to their prey, I shook my head and went back into my room so that I would avoid the inevitable.

I think my cat is going to eat it.

Le Meow

My cat strolled into my room this morning at 3am. I had deliberately left my door slightly ajar as an unspoken invitation to come in and disturb me anytime he felt like he needed a scratch. I was on my back, reading some romantic chick lit, when I noticed from the corner of my eye, a tiny black and white movement. It was his ear. He often sat, silently and unmovingly, at the side of my bed where he would wait patiently, either for me to notice him, or for him to find a vantage point with which to pounce on me.

It was, admittedly, quite early in the morning, though I reckon it didn't matter to a cat if it was night or day. I looked at him, and greeted him with an unusually high voice - I tend to do that with him. He blinked slowly and yawned, a sign that he had just woken up from sleep and wanted some TLC. So I lifted him onto my bed and laid him beside me. I started by slowly stroking him down the length of his back and he started to purr, a gentle drilling sound that never fails to bring a smile to my face. He had such a lovely coat; I'm sure he was enjoying the massage as much as I did. When I moved on to scratching his head, he closed his eyes into a look that could only be described as pleasure, then extended his neck up towards me, as if he was puckering up for a kiss. In a show of love, he wagged his long tail languorously, left and right, effectively tickling my chin every time he changed directions. Ten minutes later, after my muscles showed signs of tiredness, I stopped and returned to my book. Bringing himself to his fours and then stretching with his butt up in the air, he jumped off my bed and climbed behind it. That meant he was ready for a deep sleep.

A few nights ago, I had vented my anger on him by chasing him around the house viciously with a wire hanger after he had attacked my dad with his claws. I think I had scared him witless because I have never gone further than a raised voice and a poised finger with him. He got me on a bad night. I had slammed the door in his face and gone to sleep regretting immediately after doing that. The next morning, miraculously, I was woken up by a tiny mew that came from the other side of the door. He has never done that before. I bolted out of my bed and pulled the door wide open with as much intent as a hungry beggar opening a refrigerator door. I looked down to see his big round eyes asking pointedly for his breakfast. Chastened, I hurriedly picked up his big furry body and hugged it tightly to my chest, then kissed his head repeatedly until he pushed me away.

I was forgiven.

And he was the best gift I have ever given myself.

My cat is actually a dog.

Baby and I went for a (very terrifying) walk yesterday.

Today, I introduced the tiger to a new toy: a mouse. I threw it across the room to make like a live mouse running away and he chased after it. But as soon as he pawed the mouse, he turned and looked at me as if unsure of what to do next. I left him to be acquainted with the mouse and went to the bathroom. When I came out, he was kicking the toy around the hall and chasing after it like he does with his favourite toys.

Delighted, I called for him to come to me. Picking the mouse up with his mouth, he sauntered to me, and just as he reached my feet, the little hunter dropped the mouse on my toe. Then, to my surprise, he plopped down on the floor and started purring. Five seconds passed before I realised I was supposed to stroke him and praise him, and throw the toy away again for him to chase again.

I think I have in my home, a Felis Silvestris Retrieverus Catus. *proud

An hour in the life of a cat.

2200hrs. I should get up now.

2206hrs. This is such a chore.


2239hrs. Sigh. I'm bored.

2245hrs. Is she still at it?

2257hrs. Oh whatever.

Best Study Companion

A soft, furry, purring and undemanding cat.

My Baby.

He's always thrilled to greet me at the door no matter how late I come home everyday. He's more than happy to sit quietly by my side when I'm engrossed in work. Like me, he loves the rain and can sit for long periods of time by the window and watch the skies. He waits for me to get ready for bed before climbing in with me. Sometimes we wrestle for the pillow, but I always win. I fall asleep sometimes, listening to his breathing beside me.

Thank you, little furry thing, for your silent company and your warm tummy this morning.

The hunter.

I think the lizards in my house are stupid. It's been more than 2 years since my last frightful encounter with those slimy wall-climbers. However, today's experience takes the cake. The bad thing is, it's probably not going to be last time either.

The little fur ball was strolling casually into my room and meowing to be scratched when suddenly, right before my eyes, his body language did a 180-degree turn. His back was arched and he was eying something on the floor, something I could not see. Instinctively, I realised it must have been an insect of some sort. I rushed to distract him but I saw that he already had his prey in his mouth.

He ran into the bathroom. I saw something long and thin from the corner of his mouth. What was it? Caterpillar? Millipede? Then it dropped onto the floor and started wriggling vigorously. I stepped closer to take a look and that tiny wriggling thing that seemed alive... was a lizard's tail. I screamed for him to let go of the (rest of the) lizard that he still had between his teeth. He did drop it on the floor, yes, but he proceeded to flip the lizard upside down, trap it with his paw, bite it with his sharp teeth... it was a terrible dying process I was witnessing. The amazing thing was, everytime he managed to flip the lizard on its back, the little tiger would look at me as if for approval.

Why did that silly lizard have to choose that very moment to walk past my tiger?

I msn-ed D immediately, screaming as hard as I technically can. After much helpful ewww-ing, he said I should go praise the cat and remove the dead carcass before he presents it to me. No way was I gonna touch that lizard but I tried my best to tell my baby what a clever boy he was. With utter disgust in my voice.


A while later, I made my dad go into the bathroom to get rid of dead body that my baby had left there. He couldn't find it.

Proud momma

Exhausted after the op, my little tiger finally settled down to sleep in his bed. I took the chance to clip his nails. He opened one eye in protest but I cooed him back to sleep.

He seemed a little out-of-sorts on the journey home, but once he got back, he tried his darnedest to walk around the house with dignity, as he usually does, but kept stumbling. Then he tried to jump over the 1.2m barrier we put up to prevent him from exerting his strength, and failed miserably. Then he astonished me by gulping down his food. The vet had advised that post-op, the animals usually wouldn't show an interest in food.

What can I say? My baby is an over-achiever.

Battery Cat No More.

Me: My mum lets him roam the living room now.
Me: He likes lying by the balcony and looking outside.
D: So now he's free range.

Myth: Cats are afraid of water.

Debunked: They probably just hate the cold.

I've upgraded my little tiger's bathtub from a plastic tray, to the bathroom washbasin (only once), and finally, into the shower. With me. I noticed how he was more calm during the weekly shower now that I bathe him with the showerhead. All he does is meow loudly once in a while, probably to ask me to hurry up.

When I bathed him earlier, I ran fairly warm water on his body long enough to get him totally wet. It was only when I was scrubbing the shampoo on him that he tried to get away. He kept meowing pitifully, as if I was doing him an injustice. But when I ran the jets on him to wash away the suds, he stopped meowing and lifted his head for me to scrub his neck clean.

We all know that as water dries on our body, it can get pretty darn cold. Imagine what it must be like for the little thing, whose hair is there to insulate him from the chill. So what he'll do, is find himself a dark corner and spend the next 45 minutes licking himself dry.

On any of the non-shower days, I'd often find him fascinated with water. Whenever he knew I was gonna shower, he would run into the bathroom with me and sit outside the shower screen, just looking at the droplets that are running down the screen. Then when I'm done, he'd run inquisitively into the shower and waddle around, wondering where all that water went to.

So I am almost sure it's the cold cats are afraid of, not the water. The unfortunate scratching and biting is probably just their way of saying that it'd be too tedious to spend an hour licking themselves later.

A sight for sore eyes.

I came home after 4 days in Bangkok to find this on my bed:

He sure made himself really comfy while I was away.

Cat

if a fish is the movement of water embodied, given shape,
then a cat is a diagram and pattern of subtle air.

Doris lessing On Cats

Little terror of my nights.

As the French love to say, "Books and cats and fair-haired little girls make the best furnishing for a room". Hmm... my room's almost complete, now where's my bottle of bleach?

It's been about two months since the little tiger came into my household. That's two months of scratches and bite marks all over my hands and legs. Every morning, his soft mews and hungry protests wake me as he rubs himself against my feet. And every night, I feel his warmth between my ankles where he's snuggled up for the night.

And I still can't believe he's mine.

Proud Mommy

I always knew my baby was meant for greater things. Just look at the way he sleeps.