SECURITY CONSCIOUS

I am a most security conscious person. Even when Joe was alive I was the one who double checked doors and windows, and still do. These days you can’t be too careful.

The last job of the day is to check all doors and make sure keys are in their rightful places, the last doors to check are at the front of the house.

I have an inner front door and an outer porch door facing the road, both of which need careful checking since they are the main entrances. Outside the bungalow there is a lantern light that goes on at night.

As you can see, the porch is narrow. Not quite big enough to sit in even though it greets the sun and provides plenty of heat. Last night I checked both doors at around 10 o’clock, making sure they were both locked so I could sleep easy. I don’t go to sleep that early but I like to have good long read. By this time, Charlie was out and about in the garden or wherever it is he goes.

I drifted off to sleep at around 11 o’clock and the next thing I heard was what I thought was someone knocking on the inner front door. It was 2 o’clock. Jeez, I was petrified. Then I realised it was the inner porch door that was being knocked. Whoever it was must have broken a window to get in the porch.

I thought it better not to move for a while. If I went to the door I would be seen through the frosted glass. I waited, all was quiet. Still I waited, wondering what to do. Then I heard it, a very loud Meow.

I have never moved so fast in my life…. 

Charlie must have slipped into the porch when I was locking the front door and there he had to stay, from 10pm until 2am. No bed to lie on, just a cold tiled floor. And I never heard a peep. Daft thing is every night I check that he hasn’t slipped past me…. every night except that one. 

CHARLIE... STILL MY DARLNG

We’ve always had foxes but never one as brave as the latest visitor. It comes right up to the house to drink from the birdbath. I thought this was amusing and didn’t mind a bit. It was only a young animal, it would soon learn where it could and couldn’t go.

However, a few days later I saw Charlie the cat running towards the house. Not an ordinary run, this was fast as lightening and scared looking. I can only think he was scared by the fox but whatever it was frightened the daylights out of him. He wouldn’t go out at all, not even to do his business. He stayed indoors for quite a few days and I couldn’t entice him out. Then one day he did venture out but only onto the patio while I was putting bird seed on the bird tables a short distance away. No amount of coaxing could persuade him to join me further down. As soon as I went into the house, he was hot on my trail.

I remember thinking it might be the end of his garden adventures but deep down I wondered if the time would come when he forgot about the fox (who hasn’t been seen since) and go out as normal. He has been out since but doesn’t stay out for long. Still, it’s a start. Encouragement, encouragement, that might do it.

In the 15 months that I’ve had Charlie he has always been timid. It took him a while to settle when he arrived and absolutely ages before he would venture onto my lap. He jumped nervously and went into hiding at the least loud noise and when new people came to the house he freaked out. As time went on he relaxed a bit more but still keeps his distance from people he doesn’t know.

I don’t know his background but I wonder if he was ill-treated at some time. Because of this I’ve shown him a lot of love and care, which he would have had whether or no. It seems to have worked but not a hundred percent. A quick and unexpected move can send him scurrying for cover.

What do you think? Will the time come when he is totally settled and back to chasing birds?

Valerie

IT'S A CAT'S LIFE!

I regularly ask Charlie where he goes on his daily or nightly walks but he never tells me. Not once have I found out what he does when my back is turned. I don’t even know if he has any friends. When he moved in, just over a year ago, there was a stream of cat visitors to the garden, cats of all description and one look-alike, but they all seem to have disappeared – at least from my view.

Mealtimes are difficult. I present him with a dish of food which sometimes he scoffs straight away and other times he turns up his nose. It’s the same food, for God’s sake. So, why does he like it one day and not the next? At first, when he was new to me, I pandered to his whims, now I’m not so soft. My new policy is that if he is hungry he will eat it but that doesn’t stop me worrying or cursing the cost of wasted food.

One thing I have worked out is that he is brand fussy. I tried cheaper food but he just turned away when I put that down, almost as if he was insulted to be given cheap stuff. I can almost visualise him saying ‘Hey, Mom, will you please note that only the best is good enough for me’. Another thing I had to work out was that he is a fish lover and only eats meat or poultry on rare occasions. Once I got that into my thick head I saved a fortune.

Somebody told me that a cat must eat meat which immediately rang alarm bells until I worked out that fish is food and probably has as many if not more vitamins as meat. But, you know what (I hate the overuse of that expression but it’s the first time I’ve used it), he loves boiled or roast ham, the sort I have for my tea. He will sit like a dog waiting for titbits which, of course, I give him on the basis that he looks so endearing when he pleads for a taste of my food.

Why can’t cats have routines like we do? It would make my life so much easier. Cats, huh? You’ve gotta love ‘em whether or no. 

EXCITING TIMES, FOR SOME....

THURSDAY.

Charlie is endeavouring to rid the world of mice! Quite often I have to remove dead mice, some half eaten, some not. Fortunately I am not tickle-stomached. However, and I know this sounds daft, I am against having to chase after a live mouse. Not through fear, you understand, just that I can’t move as fast as a mouse. 

Early morning, just after waking up, I was obliged to investigate the ‘thing’ Charlie was playing with. Yes, it was a still-alive mouse. Fortunately my appearance caused Charlie to run and the mouse to freeze. Grabbing a paper tissue I managed to capture the mouse and, followed closely by Charlie, took the mouse into the garden. Of course, I tossed it onto the garden where the miniature animal raced off, chased by Charlie - in my direction. Luckily, I managed to capture the mouse again which made Charlie curious. Thinking cap on... where to throw the mouse out of Charlie’s way. Surreptitious moves on my part fooled Charlie into thinking the mouse was somewhere it wasn’t which gave me time to sweep the mouse out of sight.

Half an hour later I was still watching Charlie trying to find it.

SATURDAY.

Is it any wonder my back is killing me? I woke at around 6 o’clock. Charlie usually wakes me around 6.30. Apart from peeping at the clock I was reluctant to open my eyes. I mean, I don’t have to get up early. There are no commitments that require my attention at an unearthly hour but Charlie doesn’t believe in late rising. I can understand that, the poor animal needs feeding after all said and done.  Normally I wake in a sleepy daze but it felt different this morning. I felt alert but couldn’t think why. Only then did I realise that Charlie was running around. I could hear him slithering on the floor in an obvious hurry. Oh, I prayed, please don’t say he’s caught something.

I guessed right ... there was a A MOUSE in the house, a very much alive and kicking mouse. Usually they’re dead when I find them but not today. I didn’t stop to think, I shot out of bed to join in the chase.

Charlie and I chased the creature, what a sight that must have been with me still in nightie and bare-footed. No wonder the mouse ran and, boy, could that mouse move! He darted about in all rooms, at the back of radiator, successfully avoided my grasping hands, back to the rooms, then back into the hall and under the radiator cover which inconveniently has spaces for the mouse to go in and stay in. I got the walking stick and prodded but of course the mouse shifted to the other end. I tried to lift the cover away from the radiator but it wouldn’t budge - it needs two people to shift it.

I needed time to think about this so I ambled into the bedroom to get slippers and dressing gown but only got as far as picking up the slippers (actually, for slippers read sandals) when I heard another scurrying sound. Sandals in hand I hurried back to the mouse’s hidey-hole and started poking about with the walking stick, an instrument far too long for the job in hand. Looking round for something with which to hit the mouse, if I should ever get near it, I remembered that in the next room - just feet away - was a long handled shoe-horn, made from bone and purchased in a far off land, and perfect for the job in hand. Hurriedly I went to get it. Little did I know that the mouse had jumped into one of the sandals and I was carrying it around. I think it was the scream that made him jump out and head back to his shelter.

That was where he met his end. When he ventured out of the hole I was ready for him. The minute he tried to come out I hit him with the newly acquired weapon. Wham! Actually I don’t know if it stunned him or killed him. Gathering the inert body into a strip from the kitchen paper roll I took him into the garden and threw him into a patch of long grass and weeds – while Charlie was still searching the house!

SUNDAY.

I was sad to find a dead bird, a baby greenfinch. The chore that time was to sweep up the feathers and discard the body. So sad. LIFE IS NEVER DULL IN MY HOUSE. I have since barred Charlie from certain rooms. Of course, first on list is my bedroom! I thought barring him from some areas might save energy - mine!

EXERCISE AND STUFF…

Before I start my weekly post I must tell all who commented on an earlier post about the WASHING MACHINE that I have received a BRAND NEW MODEL plus twelve months free insurance. 

Okay, moving on to a new subject: 

EXERCISE AND STUFF ..... OR WHO IS THE BOSS IN MY HOUSE?

For years I have suffered with a wonky back but attendance at a chiropractor’s surgery made living with a wonky back more bearable. It was mainly due to taking his advice and making sure I did my daily exercises. Actually, because I had practised yoga for years I enjoyed the regimented routine I set myself on a daily basis. Joe used to laugh at me but I didn’t let it bother me, in fact I teased him by singing I Can Do Anything Better Than You. Mostly, I exercised when he wasn’t there but it wasn’t to last once he became poorly and my time was spent looking after him. For almost three years I did no exercises. Is it any wonder my back and various other bones and muscles are screaming for attention?

It has got so bad I swear I look twice my age. Anyone who knows me would disagree, of course (koff koff), but it certainly feels that way. I walk like I am a cripple – maybe not but it feels like it - and I cannot sit for long in one chair. Yes, I know everybody should cease sitting for long spells (particularly at their computer) but when pain hits stubbornness and self-pity set in.

My plan to change chairs has been carried out, with the help of my cleaning lady's husband. It had to be done. Even though Joe’s chair is a beauty it's far too big for me. Short legs meant my back wouldn’t reach the back of the chair unless I sat with flailing legs. The chair I used was/is a Stressless, yes that’s the name of it. When I bought it I thought ‘Ah, just the thing for a painful back’ … the very word Stressless was like a soothing balm. Only the word, though, the rest of the chair actually caused more backache.

The STRESSLESS Chair

The chair is quite narrow, designed to fit the back, with support for the lower spine and little room to change one’s position. Once seated there is only a small chance of movement which is unfortunate when the theory is that one should never stay in one position for too long. It was so bad I knew I had to do something about it.  

The first move was to get rid of or move the Stressless and take over the green reclining chair I inherited from my aunt and which Joe used for months on end. It meant switching chairs from one room to another but the cleaning lady's husband came along to do the heavy stuff. Now I sit in comfort, feet up or legs up depending on my mood. It's great!

Apart from the chair, exercises are a MUST for reducing pain in the back. The only problem is that floor exercises are okay until I try to get up. I’m weak, you see, from head to flipping toe and once down there is no way up, least ways not easily.

I had thought about going back to the chiro but with probate still not proven after Joe’s funeral I don’t want to fork out loads of cash. Driving there is also a problem since the car park is acres away from the chiro’s building. Oh yes, and there’s steps! I’m not bad at climbing steps but going down is a nightmare. I blame the eyes and brain as much as the spine.

Remember in the old days when anyone with back problems was advised to lie on a hard board? Yes, I know that theory was quashed, but it is the most effective way to ease painful problems. Now, if only I could find an old door or something similar. Of course, old doors are not usually left lying around so I donned the thinking cap again and decided to go on a hunt round my estate, all five rooms of it.

You will never guess what I found in a wardrobe. No, not a door, not even something made of wood, I found my old zipped leather portfolio case which, I‘m pleased to say, had never been thrown out. It opens to twice its size and the inside is a tough material which will withstand just about any weight. I hope the neighbours didn’t hear my shout of joy as I opened it out on my bed. Oh wow, all I had to do was climb up and I have a footstool if that gets difficult. Actually getting off the bed is easier than trying to negotiate kerbstones in the street. Explain that, if you can!

The first trial on the ‘board’ was like a trip to heaven…. such relief when I pressed the spine onto a hard surface. I was able to do a complete set of exercises and would be able to do more every day.

Mid-afternoon I went for a second go. Lying flat on my back I went through each movement to a count of 20, one knee at a time then both together, then straight into a bit of ‘pedal pushing’ and rocking, and finishing with alternate leg and arm stretches. It felt good but imagine my surprise when lowering the limbs I lowered them onto Charlie, the cat, who had one leg in the air while he washed his nether region.

How long he’d been there is anybody’s guess and he didn’t want to move. If I moved a leg he edged over to take that spot, if I shuffled back, he did the same. The look on his face was a picture, like he’d scored points over me. It was so funny I couldn’t stop laughing and still he didn’t shift. In the end I left him there. Now I’m wondering who IS the boss in this house! 

LOST ... AND FOUND!

To date Charlie, the cat, has lost three collars and two engraved discs but he gained a couple of points for catching mice. If I had my way he would get no more points on the grounds that I don’t much care for mice in the house – dead or alive!

It’s a new venture, apparently. At least I think it is. Certainly in the three months Charlie has lived here I never saw a mouse in the house. Not too many outside either, although I did raise a couple of mouse babies a couple of years ago but not seen any since. I have blogged before about the tiny mice who came to collect ‘deliberate’ droppings of birdseed whenever I went out to feed the birds. Maybe the upheaval caused by new neighbours has deprived the mice of protection in the garden and made it easier for Charlie to catch them.

I have to praise Charlie for his actions, though. He doesn’t just kill mice; he carries them carefully through the cat flap into the side passage. From there he carries them up two steps and round the kitchen door which is currently left ajar (I am waiting for another cat flap to be fitted). Then he saunters along the hall to the lounge where he places them amongst his toys. I hasten to add that he does this one at a time. I’m not sure he could carry more than that in one go. Ah, I imagine him saying, another trophy – and I wonder if he knows it’s me that removes them. I’m quite furtive when I use the litter scoop to toss the dead creature into bag before chucking it into the refuse bin ... I would hate to upset him.

I wonder if it’s okay to put it there? It’s not something I can ask the neighbours on the grounds they might not like mice in any shape or form being binned and transported to the refuse depot. I suppose even if I could dig a hole Charlie would just un-bury the poor thing. How does one dispose of a dead mouse? And how does one stop a cat from triumphantly bringing home his prey?

His latest capture was a baby bird which did upset me. I can see I need to harden my heart as far as nature is concerned, after all Charlie is only doing what all cats do. If only he would stop offering them to me! I read somewhere that cats like to show off their so-called prizes. Well, I have praised him, repeatedly telling him he’s a clever boy, so does that mean I’m due for a few more dead gifts? Still, dead is better than alive when we’re talking about rodent house guests. Ugh!

More about Charlie

Charlie arrived with blanket, an over-washed teddy/doll/whatever, neither of which would he touch, and a couple of useless toys. I suppose the items were to make him feel at home rather than play with but I’ll never know the answer to that. I was also given a spray that would minimise his anxiety, but he plays or uses anything I’ve bought him and only occasionally shows a sign of being anxious. My view is that the blanket etc reminded him too much of the place where he was locked in a cage. Little wonder he didn’t want to know. I’ve told him people only wanted what was best for him but he doesn’t understand. Freedom is what he wanted more than anything, freedom plus someone to give him food and hugs.

We’ve had our moments but not once have I felt the urge to use the tranquillising spray.  Not even when I suffered a deep scratch in the space between thumb and finger. Ouch, it hurt, and blood flowed quite freely. I gave Charlie an immediate sharp tap from which I think he took on board that I was no pushover. We were, of course, getting used to each other’s ways which thankfully only took a couple of days. We are now firm friends.

On the third night he stayed out. Oh my goodness that was a worry ... I had broken the rules set by the RSPCA that he should NOT be let out of the house for two weeks. Two weeks? Two days was enough for both Charlie and me. There was no response to calling and all I could do was worry. I didn’t sleep much that night, but at around two o’clock in the morning I heard a pitiful cry at the back door. I don’t think I have ever moved so fast but oh the relief to see him there and in one piece, too.  You can tell my mind had run riot. The rest of the night he slept on the chair at the side of my bed and now that spot has become his nightly (when he’s in) sleeping place. To ease the situation though I have had a cat flap fitted in the outside door. It’s one way to guarantee I get some sleep.

One of the funniest sights so far was seeing Charlie running hell-for-leather after a squirrel. I didn’t know either animal could move so fast. Readers to this blog will know how hard I have tried to stop squirrels eating ALL the bird food so they will appreciate the feeling of satisfaction I had when I saw my Charlie chasing the squirrel. Go, boy, go.

Another amusing incident was the day I had some pork loin for tea. I buy cooked meat for sandwiches and this is my favourite. It starts off as a roll of pork loin coated with sea salt and black pepper, then sliced and packed. I love it. What amazed me was that Charlie loves it as well. I haven’t given him any but he tries very hard to stop me taking a bite. I usually end up laughing but I haven’t given in. I’m not sure the pork is good for a little pussy cat, even if he does like the smell, but I am of the firm opinion that he shouldn’t have ANY of MY food. If he does, it might be me needing the tranquilliser spray!