Oscar’s Diary

I have endured the worst possible humiliation!

Incomparable pain and suffering!

A short while ago, and being the placid, agreeable soul that I am, I was tricked in a manner of unimaginable treachery. First, I was forced to share a tiny enclosure with the unwelcome female feline that recently took up residence at my abode (see post below). There was a brief trip in my human slave’s car and then said enclosure (more of a cage) was dragged into a bad place. A very bad place. A beauty parlour! Of course I had no idea that’s what it was at the time, since it was disguised as a vet clinic. But soon enough, my human slave bailed and I (and the wailing female feline) were forced to endure a mortifying procedure that can only be described at pure, unadulterated torture. I was shaved! Almost skinned! Robbed of my flowing, silken tresses.  After that humiliation I felt exposed . . . naked. You can only imagine my despair!

The wailing female feline looked no better. Of course, her locks were not as regal as mine, so therefore her humiliation was not on such a grand scale. But I . . . I have had my pride stolen. Like Samson, I am half the man I was. And then I was forced to share that small enclosure with wailing female feline on the journey home. The human slaves seemed very pleased with themselves regarding my current condition. They will pay a heavy price. I am determined.

Merry Christmas ……. NOT!

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There’s an intruder in the house……………………………………..

Suddenly I am sharing my world with another. Hah……… and it’s a SHE!

While I safely believed my human slaves only had eyes for me, they were secretly coveting another. And now this stranger is sharing my life, my house and my food and my ensuite! Her name, they have said, is Candy. Now, I thought that was a sweet, icky substance that human females craved. I didn’t think, in any stratosphere, that candy would arrive in the form of a blue eyed, fluffy coated feline that has suddenly usurped me. And the big queen sized bed where my human slaves rest …. MY bed, is now not my own. She has taken up permanent residence on what was once my favourite place to stretch and doze and dream.

And there’s no getting away from her. She’s everywhere. She sashays her cute little tail, bats those big blue eyes. makes a (I think) rather paltry effort at a meow and the human slaves ALWAYS pick her up. Grrrrrrr. Not happy. Here I was thinking that those horrid canines were my greatest threat and now, through not fault of my own, the enemy lies suddenly within.

I have decided I do not like this interloper.

“It’s me or her!” I long to shout.

But no one listens. Although ……… perhaps I am looking at this abominable situation all wrong. An old saying comes to mind ……. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer……

That’s it! Of course. It’s time this Top Cat took back his number one spot. Stay tuned.

Meow for now……

Oscar

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As all my many fans know, I’ve been living in this new place for a while now. And I must admit, it’s been a pretty good ride so far. I’m inside, with comfy places to sleep (see my last post about the new aparatus that was made for me) and the cuisine is not too shabby either. Today I had tender duck breast with roe and prawn. Yesterday I have flaked whiting in a tasty jus. Mmmmm. Good. I have my own bathroom too (okay, it’s in the laundry, but my tray has a cover so that privacy is ensured).

So, like I said, my life at the new abode has been sweet. Or so I thought. Of course I knew they were outside. How could I not? The barking, the jumping at the back door . . . the way they dare to stare at me through the fly screen. What I didn’t expect was that are times when I am to be forced to share inside with one of these dreadful beasts. In those first weeks I was clearly lulled into a false sense of security. They were just biding their time before one of those beasts made an appearence. And worse, it’s the big one! And I mean really big. Nearly 70 kilograms of slobbering canine. Now, I’ve heard her call this beast a Dogue De Bordeaux, which sounds French to me. At my previous abode there was also a french dog – a poodle. But this monster doesn’t look anything like that one. Man’s best friend? Harrumph!

See the picture on the right – that’s him! That mouth, those teeth . . . . I’m doomed!

Thankfully he’s also as slow as a slug. But he still has to go. What I need is a cunning plan. I can’t share space. I’m, well . . . me, after all.

I shall report back with details of my sneaky agenda . . . I mean transparent plan to rid said abode of slobbering, and dreadfully smelly canine.

Meow for now ………..

Oscar

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So, today is a very lazy day. She is working, doing something called edits for a book that comes out in January. I sashayed into the office the other day and snuck a peek at a thing called an email, now I know all about this January book. It’s called His-And-Hers Family. And today I’m taking a break from my usual busy day and am resting. I’ve discovered I’m very good at resting. Did I tell you he made me a house. A cat-house, he called it. Not sure what I need it for. I mean, it’s not like I’m a run of the mill moggy. I’m . . . well . . . me! And as you can see from the picture I have my own spot on this thing called a bed. Too bad there’s a odd looking foot in the picture – ruins the image I think.

So, back to this cat-house. Four levels of pure carpeted luxury and scratching opportunities . . . a cosy nook for long naps . . .  a fabulous er – okay, so maybe I did check it out for a little while. I’m only human, after all! Actually, it was quite comfortable. Maybe I’ll go check it out again. At least that way I won’t have a nasty foot in my face. I’m off!

 

Meow for now . . .

Oscar

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So, did I tell you that she went away on the weekend? To a feast! A Literati feast on the Gold Coast I heard it called. Which left me at home with him. It wasn’t so bad. He fed me on time. And let me sit on the sofa. And of course I got to sleep on the office chair.

When she returned there was lots of chatter about where she’d been and what she’d done. I overheard that she’d gone to the event with a fellow author, Louise Cusack. This is the website to have a look at Ms Cusack’s take on the weekend. I took a little interest . . . but of course that was overshadowed by the fact I had to vacate the aboveformentioned office chair. But the bed is comfortable too, so it will do while she’s doing what she does.

I have noticed some strange going’s on in the office. Late nights. Early mornings. Tap tap tapping on a thing called a keyboard in the wee small hours. I have figured she’s a writer. The desk, the computer, the pinboard, whiteboard – all good indicators. But while she was away I did a little snooping and discovered she writes romances. Hah. Who reads books like that? I need to check that out too.

Anyway, while she was away I also had a chance to check out what’s going on outside. Three reasons to stay indoors . I have no intention of venturing out to get chased by a trio of unruly canines. One of them is as big as a tank and drools. The other clearly mad because it jumps up and down like a spring at the back door. The smallest one is the one to watch though. I’ve heard him call it The Smiling Assassin. So I will stay indoors thank you very much.

It’s an inside life for me. Check out the awesome pic! 

She’s working tonight, muttering something about blogs and tweets. Not sure what that means. Will have to check that out too.

Meow for now . . . .

Oscar

 

 

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So, about three weeks ago I moved house. Which is a good thing. Getting picked up by the back of the neck by a two year old is all kinds of wrong.  I’d been prepared for it all day. My things had been collected and stacked by the door. You know, my stuff – the bed, the scratch post, the spare collar. And finally, they arrived. They looked normal enough. Of course you can never really tell. They oohh and aahhed and acted impressed – which is to be expected I suppose. Take a look to the left. Impressive huh? Once I’d been bundled into the humilating cage I quickly checked the back seat of the car for a booster seat. Hmmm. No two year old. Maybe this new arrangement would work out okay.

There was a thirty minute drive (including further humiliation of a bathroom stop) and a further half an hour being stuck in the cage once the new home was reached. They fussed around for the longest time with more oohhh’s and aahh’s. Boring. Typical of their breed. When I was finally free I mosied for a while. Not bad. Double storey. Lots of space. All up I counted four sofas. Lots of potential scratching places. And sleeping places.

I continued with my investigations. Kitchen upstairs. My bathroom downstairs. Hmmm. Those trips up and down the stairs will keep me trim. They left me alone for a while.

I found the master bedroom. Funny how it’s called that. No guessing who’s soon going to be the master of this house. Through the bedroom (Note to self – big comfy bed – room to stretch) I found a set of doors. A secret room? I stuck my paw between the doors. Pushing. Pushing more. Darn heavy doors. Hmmm. Finally I broke through. I’m in! But it’s not what I expected. There’s a long desk.  Two computer thingy’s. Strange pieces of board stuck to the walls which are covered in cut out pictures. And books. Loads of books. Pens and paper. A white board. Hmmm. An empty cardboard box on the floor (Good for hiding in).

I looked around. Things weren’t adding up. It was an office. So, nothing unsual about that. Except . . . I took a closer look at the books and resist the urge to scratch. There was a row of books on one shelf – same title, same name. Who has ten copies of the same book? I get even closer. The name looked familiar. I remember him calling her that name.

I shivered. Realization dawned. No two year old to grab me by the neck in this place. But something else. Someone else. The books, the desk, the scribbled notepaper . . . it suddenly became very clear. I was living with an author.

And life would never be the same.

Meow for now . . .

Oscar