Monthly Archives: February 2014

Attention Seeker

Chewing the rug.

Chewing the rug.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I scratch the rug, the human claps her big mitts together and growls, ‘Smudge, No!’ How predictable…

My favourite thing to do now is clasp the rug between my front paws, while chewing the straggly bits. I imagine it’s a feathered chirper trying to escape my clutches. Whack, whack, the rug hits the floor as I give it a beating with my back paws as well. Of course, the human isn’t impressed.

Often she is distracted, staring at a pile of litter-type lining on the floor. I’ll saunter over and plonk my backside right in the middle of it and start pawing.

‘Smudge,’ there she goes again. She tries to lift a layer, but a piece breaks off because I’m hefty.

From the couch, she watches that loud, annoying box every night. Later, she stretches out and soon makes putt, putt sounds.

I give her a nip or claw her arm. ‘Hey, get up… You’re sleeping on my bed and I want to snooze.’

The human doesn’t have too much between the ears and is easy to manipulate. I’ve trained her well to give me her full attention, as I hate being ignored.

Every now and then, I’ll change my sleeping spot to the soft, round chair. Not only comfy, I’ve got my big toy mouse to snuggle up against. Sometimes, it’s better to cosy up with something furry, small and quiet, rather than the human.

Miaow

Snuggling with the mouse.

Snuggling with my toy mouse.

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Sharing A Treat

Guest Blogger:  Snout – A Stray Woofer

Me before I left home.

Me, before I left home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I met Smudge through a bust-up over sausages. My snout (also my name, which my former human thought was like licorice— whatever that is), alerts me to a delicious aroma. Salivating, I follow the scent into a backyard.

I discover a couple of juicy snags in a dish on a ledge. Before my tail can fully rotate, I am scoffing down the tasty treats and find myself confronted by a hissing moggie, while humans natter inside a big shed.

‘Settle down, dude’, but the moggie lashes out with splayed claws. Immediately, I pin a paw over his body. ‘Peace my fickled feline. You speako the lingo?’

The feline spits, ‘They’re mine, scumbag!’

‘Hey, no insults… Man I was famishooshed! My name’s Snout and I’m a wanderer.’ Releasing my paw, the feline springs up and glares.

‘Haven’t spoken with a dog before, didn’t know I could… I’m Smudge.’

I’m a peaceful dude and a smoothie with the woofettes, but Smudge doesn’t return my friendly karmic wishes.

‘Why are you gi-normous and your tail sooo stumpy?’

Man, this cat is annoying as flea bites. He’s fluffy like a rabbit – which reminds me of the fun I had chasing them. Mmm… my eyes glaze over and my tongue hangs out.  Smudge takes off, with me in pursuit. I come to a halt when he scrambles up a tree. Yawning, I roll over for a nap.

Smudge is now a mate. Sometimes I visit him for exercise and a free feast.

Woof!

Smudge, curving his bushy tail.

Smudge, flexing his bushy tail.

Home

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Undercover – ready to pounce on the  human.

 

 

 

 

 

I suspect Smudge was taken away from his mother too early as he lacks social skills.

I am reminded of this when I return from a holiday in New Zealand, participating in extreme sports: paragliding, zipping down flying foxes, a glacier walk and swimming with dolphins.

Back in Australia, the weather is extreme—40 degrees C. With the housesitter gone, Smudge greets me warmly, then retires for a customary snooze. Jet-lagged, I welcome sleep too.

Early the next morning, I awake in pain. I’ve forgotten how dangerous it is to be only covered with a sheet and no doona. Smudge has latched onto my ankle. He imagines it’s a plump pigeon or a tantalising rat. It isn’t as much fun for him If I endure and remain still, but if I move, he will chomp harder. I move…

‘Get off,’ I scream, shoving him off the bed. I yank the sheet up and secure the folded doona over my feet and lower legs, but my torturer is persistent.

Smudge leaps back onto the bed. He studies me as I roll over into a foetal position. I wonder what is going on inside his pea-sized brain? Walking backwards with an erect tail, he shoves his backside into my face.

Reeling back, then bolting upright, I am now fully awake. My wounds are smarting. I inspect them—2cm slashes on my left ankle and a deep cut on my big toe. This is extreme. I’m not enjoying being Smudge’s sport.

The human.

Me, paragliding.

Me, paragliding.

View of Queenstown, New Zealand.

View of Queenstown, New Zealand.

Happy, now the human's home.

Happy, now the human’s home.