Tag Archives: feline

Fur Balls and a Runny Nose

Me lounging on the bed without the human.

Me lounging on the bed without the human. So much room!










Lion’s paws! What’s wrong with the human? She had flopped onto her bed and crawled under the doona for a few moons, bringing up some kind of fur balls, heaps of them, which is strange ’cause she doesn’t have a glossy coat like me.

When I want breakfast, I usually whack her face with my paw. Normally, she’d roll over, but this time she opened her eyes and made a racket, coughing into sheets of litter-type stuff. Her whole body shook—I know how she feels. I nudged her cheek with my nose, but she just lay there, so I thought I’d better snuggle up and keep her company. Who knew when my next feed would be, but she did manage to get up a couple of times to do her business and leave me some dry food—crunchies. The first time up, she left the back door open.

I could come and go whenever—have some fun, but I’d thought I’d better stay and wait till the human was back to her annoying self again. It was comfy lounging on the rugs on top of the doona, except it was irritating when she was  honking her nose and bringing up fur balls.

Finally, the human was up. ‘Come on, let’s play.’ I dashed off down the hall, but she lagged behind. ‘Hurry up!’ Instead of chasing me, she went to the food cupboard and made some breakfast. ‘Hey, where’s mine?’ Now that the human was better, it was time for her to attend to my needs.



Time Out

Waiting to play with the human.

Waiting to play with the human.








What’s wrong with the human? She spends heaps of time tapping away and staring at that flip-top thing, or concentrating on piles of litter material. Even when I’m curled in her lap trying to snooze, she will be scratching the litter with a stick next to me—how annoying.

I used to jump up and sit in front of the flip-top so she couldn’t see what she was doing and then walk across the empty part. It would make beeping noises and the human would get upset and shove me off. She wasn’t happy when I’d  swipe her fingers too. How else was I to get her attention?

Late one night she was tap, tapping away and forgot she had left the front door open. Imagine her surprise when I had a bust-up with my noisy neighbour. Can you believe it, he actually came into my house—my territory—the intruder. Fur was flying, mostly mine. What a racket! There was screeching and screaming; the human rushed out in the dark and shouted too and then it was quiet. Suddenly our intruder dashed out.

In the morning the human picked up my fluff off the floor. When she found some short dark-grey fur, I think she realised that it was Slasher, a hefty possum who lives in the tall tree, close the front door. He’s leaving his trademark pellets on the big pathway and the human is not impressed when she stands in it.


N.B. Smudge understands limited words—only those that concern him—like cushion, rug and dinner etc., through sounds and association with a particular object.

MESSAGE:  Sorry, but I’m back studying part-time, so posts will be infrequent as I have a few assignments looming—just finished one now, and have other work and things to attend to as well. Smudge is not suffering and still receives loads of my attention. For the last few weeks to get ahead, I have been going to bed in the early hours of the morning. I don’t appreciate being woken up and tortured when I’ve only had 4 hours sleep.

The human.




Hoot Of A Friend

Lounging in the garden.

Lounging in the garden.








I’ve hung out with other moggies/kitties, Pippy, the ringtail possum and even a homeless, woofer, Snout. Never would I have thought that I’d be friends with a feathered puffball—mmm… usually a tasty treat—but Otis, a tawny frogmouth is different.

Feathered balls can be annoying too—like The General, Leader of the Myna Birds, who I’ve been trying to chomp and de-puff since he and others dive-bomb me when I’m outside, see (Assault On The Furball).

Otis is almost my size. Like me, she is a hunter and has a killer beak, savouring crawly things and the odd mouse. I’d thought she’d be hostile, after I’d killed so many of her relatives—only smaller species, but she’s smart as, been around and knows the territory. Otis can spot an insect when she’s way up high on a tree branch, but she’s a bit rough around the feathers grooming wise though.

She perches on top of the big post, where the human hangs out things, splattering droppings on the path—at least I bury mine.

The human came out looking for me and stopped suddenly when she spied Otis. Otis wasn’t scared, sensing the human was a good egg and cocked her head. Slowly, the human crouched down and started talking to her. I was close-by, with my belly on the grass.

The human later told a friend how she had her own ‘owl and pussycat’. Please… Otis is an owlette and I’m a moggie. Humans are stupid sometimes.


P.S. The human couldn’t take a snap of Otis in the dark.

Favourite Toys and Fun Things

Playing with balls.

Playing with bouncy balls.








As a youngster, my favourite toy was a stuffed cheetah. I would clutch it in a headlock between my front paws, while chewing the head and kicking the body at the same time—a Smudge manoeuvre. The head was wobbly and came off heaps of times, so the human sewed it back.

I loved my toy mice, but soon their tails and ears would disappear after lots of pounces and grapples.

One day, the human came home with some small, bouncy rubber balls… Even now, they are my favourite things to bat, swipe, kick or juggle with. When she throws them to me, I’ll swipe back, sending them flying. They land under the cabinet or between the table and chairs. It’s hilarious watching the human crouch on all fours finding them—playing fetch.

If I’m outside at night, she doesn’t like me staying out too long. So for fun, I’ll whack the wire door. Hey pronto the human appears, but I scoot off, darting under a bush.

She stumbles outside, holding up her big mitts, touching the plants. I’ve told you before that the human is dumb and can’t see well in the dark. When she spots me—the moonlight shines off my white coat—she bends down and tries to pick me up, but I bunny hop off and hide under another bushy spot. A few more hops, then she goes inside. I’m left miaowing, ‘Hey let me in.’ After awhile, she opens the door and I’m ready to play.


Snuggling on the human cushion.

Snuggling on the human cushion.

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.


Smudge, curving his bushy tail.

Smudge, flexing his bushy tail.

Unwanted Guests

Cosy in the cupboard.

Banished from the bedroom, but cosy in the cupboard.









When the human brings home company – a male—I’m not happy. He’ll be bigger than her and have a strong scent. I’ll have to distract her for attention and challenge him, ’cause I’m the dominant male.

When her last mate was here, I sat between them on the couch. Soon he is leaning over and they snuggle. ‘Hey, what about me?’ They move off to her room.

I scamper over as I don’t want to miss out on any fun. Circling the bed, I leap up and land SMACK on top of the mate. He yells out, scaring me, so I dig in my claws. ‘AHHH!’ He yells louder, then shoves me off.

The human dumps me out in the hallway, slamming the door. I am not impressed. After scratching and miaowing for ages, I’m tired. When the door opens, I’ll go back and mark my territory on the cloths, the challenger wraps around his body.

As I plod past the big cupboard, I discover a new snoozing place – the bottom ledge of the cupboard where there are heaps of rugs. It’s a bit tricky to jump in as the door isn’t fully opened… Now settled, my head almost touches the next ledge.

In the morning, the human’s jaw drops when she swings open the cupboard door and finds me inside. She is eyeballing me. Will she push me out, or is she challenging me to a fight over her mate? Neither, and I stay comfy. Mmm… just love the smell of fresh rugs.