October 26, 2009

Yesterday I visited my cat Tess. She doesn’t live with me but is looked after by some very good friends. She’s their cat too. She’s a shared cat, though cats, were they able, would deny belonging to anybody.

She’s old now. Nineteen. And tiny. She weighs just under 3kg. Her brother Bobbin died a few years back at the age of fifteen.



Tess may miss him. We don’t know. They used to cuddle up with each other, but then Bobbin would always take it one step too far and try and have his way with her. I never knew what to do. Should we impose our morality on our cats? Tess would always sort things out with a high pitched meow and a whack. I couldn’t blame Bobbin; he deserved some fun after having vets do their business down below many years ago. I was always amazed and surprised that he still had the urge.

And then you find out more things. Who knew cats had barbed penises? Not me. So Tess, I’m sorry I didn’t stop him.

Tess is doddery now. She’s totally deaf and fairly blind but otherwise in reasonably good health considering that, in human years, she’s 173. When I saw her a week ago she had a little siezure of sorts. It could have been cramp, or rheumatism, arthritis, a stroke. She stood up and all one side of her had gone dead. She could only walk sideways and she kept bumping up against the wall. After a short while she recovered.

She has difficulty getting up and down stairs. She can’t jump up on to beds or sofas anymore, but she can fall off them.

Yesterday she was in good form. I spent a bit of time with her, trimmed her claws and combed her fur. She’s pretty good at taking care of herself and grooming, but she’s old, so she doesn’t mind a bit of help.

And she’s found a new friend, though I think it was the sun that was the attraction.




Four snails and a chip

July 11, 2009

As I came back from Lewisham People’s Day (I’ll write about the day tomorrow), as I walked to Hither Green Station, I saw four snails eating a chip. Or maybe pushing it home. This was new for me. I’ve never seen this before. It’s possibly the most exciting thing I’ve seen since I saw a wasp battle a spider (the wasp won by eating the spider’s legs).

I stopped and looked on in wonder. There was no one around so I felt pretty cool about taking a snap. And then a woman turned the corner and walked towards me, just as I was in macro mode. I felt an urge to share the moment. She was impressed. She laughed. And as she walked away she turned back and said “Shame. Someone’ll not see them and stand on them.” She was quite likely right. There’s not much you can do in a situation like this to help a snail. You can’t shoo them along, as you would a cat. You can’t prod them, as you would a frog to make it hop out of danger. You can’t even pick them up without risking crunching their home to pieces. And even if you could do any of these things, what of the chip, their greatest and largest meal ever?

I hope they enjoyed their last supper.


Alien Cats on a Roof

November 22, 2008


Today I have mostly been decorating. And soon I will visit friends, whose triplets are three today. Happy Birthday! So, not much time to write and not much to write about.

Last night, my mum went to see John Shuttleworth. She told me she loved it and that some of his fans turned up with pigeons on sticks.

Here’s two cats who could be aliens. Or could it be these two?

Two more from the same series, and I apologise to those who are upset by the second picture, but this is Mummified Fox. In the midst of life we are in death etcetera.

cat-fight mouse-and-fly

Mucky Mouse was found right outside my dwelling. The two cats live just a little further up the road. I don’t know if the cats are related, or if they live in the same house. And if I meet one of them in the street and stop for a chat I don’t know if I’m talking to the one on the left or the right. In the street, they are happy to talk, and seem to like a bit of attention. But if they are outside the house when I come across them, they run a mile. Or could it be that one runs and one stays, and I just don’t know which is which. It’s possible that one of these cats killed the mouse. It’s also possible that they then brought it to me as a gift. The fly is just a bystander. Or a mouse-sitter. I like the cats. And I would have liked the mouse. The fly, through no fault of its own, stirs no feelings in me.

willow12 I’ve just posted this off to the Willow Foundation. So, give it a few days and then you’ll be able to see it here along with original art works by Matt Damon, Sir Richard Attenborough and ahem, the Cheeky Girls. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Cheeky Girls’ artwork is of their arses. Please look at the site and prepare your bids for when the auction starts on the 27th November. Apart from the ridiculous; my cats and the Cheeky Girls’ cheeks; there’s some great pieces there, my favourites being the works of Craig Cash, Ricky Hatton and John Hurt. Oh, and if you like the Cheeky Girls’ arses, why not complement them with Trinny and Susannah’s offerings; artwork of their tits. I look forward to seeing what Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand may offer.

I’m no artist, and barely a celebrity, but I’m happy to do my bit for the foundation. The Willow Foundation was founded by Bob and Megs Wilson in 1999, in memory of their daughter, Anna, who died of cancer at the age of 31. Willow was Anna’s nickname. The aim of the foundation is to provide special days for young adults living with life-threatening conditions; from escaping the pressures of their daily routines to sharing quality time with family and/or friends. So, if you can, get involved.

Bob may not remember this, but years ago, last century, I worked with him. For all of two minutes.goingwilson2
That’s me on the left, Bob in the middle, and Trev Neal on the right. It was for a BBC1 programme called “Going Live!” Me and Trev would do daft sketches and get the guests involved. All I can really remember of this was that we had to walk over to a competition area and as we did so, we said to Bob, “walk this way.” And then we made him copy us and do a silly walk. That’s how comedy worked in the 80’s. None of this phoning up grandpas’ stuff. The nearest we ever got to being banned from the BBC was for making an anti-Thatcher comment live on air on childrens’ tv. Still, if we hadn’t made that comment, who knows, John McCain might be president now. So, we did our bit.

willow-back1 Here’s the back of my piece of “art”. There’s a dog. He can’t see the cats, but he senses something may be up, so he gives a bark. The Boxing Cat is crazy and mean and likes to punch the lights out of the other cats, but look at those long whiskers that wrap around the picture. Oh, the Boxing Cat often trips up over them, and consequently, a hit always misses. And with humans? There is no anger. Stroke the Boxing Cat and she purrs.

Behind the sticks are little messages. All but one should be removed. Remove the fourth and the whole picture world will be thrown into chaos. I can’t say why. If you really want to know, please bid for the picture and raise money for the Willow Foundation.