...Er, um, Hello!

My name is Augustus. I have parents. Sometimes life can be difficult. I possess the great skill of being able to charm the socks off of anyone who chances to spot me, a rare occurrence indeed. [The spotting, that is; not the charming!]
However, for you, Dear Reader, I am prepared to divulge my deepest thoughts and perspective of the world, mostly because if I don't tell somebody what is going on around here, I am going to pop!
But be warned, proceed with caution: Living with Mummy and Dad can be rather harrowing at times...

Tuesday, August 3, 2021


Well, She did it again.

Mummy absolutely wreaked havoc at the old homestead this week, incarcerating innocent kits without their consent yet ultimately denying she was to blame!

You see, Dear Reader, there is a room at the top of the stairs (not Dad’s study which has full and ready access via the balcony – Dad and Mummy’s feeble attempt at preventing kit entrances by installing a door is, at best, laughable).

But I digress…

This alluring space, known as The Spare Room, is full of nooks and crannies and fun-looking boxes and general “thingies” - the kind of stuff that simply begs to be explored! Unfortunately, Mummy has an official (albeit UNposted) rule about this room: to wit, that no cats are allowed to venture within a 12 mile radius on penalty of death, citing some mindless chatter about cats destroying Dad’s study and not getting a chance at this one. I am sure I do not know what she is talking about. I would point out, however, that the house is, er, not far enough away to meet the 12-mile-radius rule but with the Mumster it would hardly be any good. All must obey or face her wrath!

The point of this monologue is to stress how calculating Mummy can be, as in the case of our unlawful imprisonment just a few nights ago. What happened was this: Mummy is allowed to enter The Spare Room, no doubt a ruling of her own device. So in she went those few nights ago, closing the door firmly behind her to ensure we fuzzikins were left out on the dark landing, only able to listen to the fantastical sounds of digging and shifting and opening things up (as opposed to being the makers of such joyful noises). We are confident she enjoys tormenting us in this fashion.

After much combing through things and unstacking then restacking boxes, Mummy emerged with an armful of goodies, some of which I was secretly hoping would be left out for my later perusal. In the meantime, her arms were a bit overloaded which I, being the astute observer of motherkind that I am, quickly realized meant that she could not see goings-on beneath her feet. Furthermore, as she exited the SR, she gently pulled the door toward her then be-bopped down the stairs, confident she had once more teased us and left us hanging.

Only some of us were a bit too clever for her this time. I don’t like to boast but old Gussie can move pretty stealthily as the situation requires, and this situation DID require! You see, Mummy, I also noticed, had failed to close the door completely. And it was with me the work of a moment to dash in and begin exploring before Mummy could say, “Where are you?” I mean to say, you can’t expect a cat to ignore the potential of such an environment - it isn’t human nature!

What is more, Poppet was apparently of the same mindset. So in we went, with one quick backward glance to ensure we had eluded notice, then settled in for an hour or so, we thought, of fun.

After a while, the two of us grew a bit tired from all our exploring [we managed to unwrap two new down pillows, shred a roll of paper towels, and topple a stack of boxes, spilling the contents across the carpet], so we settled in for a quick nap before Mummy came back to get us. Poppet chose one of the down pillows for his snooze while I opted for one of the [now-empty] boxes (it always pays to be safe, even in the Storage Room). I melted into sleep, dreamily thinking of having a nice crunchy snack in a few minutes….

I woke to the sound of someone’s tummy growling, probably Poppet’s, then realized it was really dark. Who turned out the lights, I asked myself. My Self responded with a sense of panic and chattering teeth. It appeared we had been hoodwinked – no doubt the old Mumster had discovered our fell deed, came all the way back upstairs, opened the door softly so as not to disturb our rest, switched off the light, then slithered back down the stairs to enjoy her evening without us. A bit odd, I thought, as she normally would have unceremoniously tossed us out on our ears under the circs. Still, I gave her the benefit of the doubt and decided she was trying to teach us a lesson.

After a while of waiting and listening, I grew a bit apprehensive that this lesson was being carried a bit too far. After all, I am a quick learner – it had already sunk in that I was missing out on my midnight snack. This time it was my tummy growling!

The predicament, of course, is that I was unable to say anything on the off chance Mummy actually did not know we were harbored in The Forbidden Place. So it was for me to settle in and wait.

Mummy had to come back in this room eventually.

Didn’t she?

I am pretty sure she does so at least once a week.

Poppet was not so easily sated. He determined to remove us from this dreadful situation at all costs. And his determination paid off! After poking around a bit, he discovered that the door was not even closed all the way, just sort of pushed to (I had to admit not recalling either of us shutting it…).

This was the best news ever!

I was truly excited to realize my worst fears were highly exaggerated and we would be eating tuna in no short order….

To my mind, it was merely a matter of reaching a paw under the door (I have done this a bazillion times when investigating the pantry) and sliding the door open while making our way to freedom. Only Poppet thought trying to reach for the knob made more sense - never mind that he does not possess an opposable thumb. So as I slipped my oversized clod hopper beneath the door, he simultaneously raised up and reached for the knob….

Do you know what happens when an overly rotund cat leans heavily on an open door?


I will tell you!

The door closes.

As in shut.

The house was all quiet. My head hung low as I slinked back to my box; it was going to be a long night.

Next morning, Poppet was bright eyed and ready to go with another clever plan: annoy the bajeezies out of Mummy with his infamous “door scratching” (it is successful downstairs, rousting her out of bed at any unfashionable hour to quell the incessant scraping). Here is how it works: Poppet stands against the door and moves his paws in rapid succession up and down the door panels until that “claws on a chalkboard” sound can no longer be tolerated. Then appears Mummy with that reproving tone and Poppet sails to the other end of the house, well out of arms’ reach.

He waited until he heard the delicious sounds of tuna being dished out in heaping spoonfuls to the other cats, then he let loose with a raucous scratching that could no doubt be heard in China.

Nothing at first. He paused, then resumed the beloved annoying action. Then it came – the first sign that Mummy was actually paying attention: she yelled at Poppet (for she knew it was he) to “Stop that infernal racket!” He paused again to refresh then once more went at it, picking up the pace. By this time it had become apparent that Mummy was now exploring to rout out the offense, and ultimately made her way up the stairs after smartly tracking the sound down.

The door burst open, flinging Poppet backward into a niche behind, where he stayed, crouching in abject fear as he was certain Mummy was on a death mission (he only has a couple of lives left, I think). I, on the other paw, oddly had just lowered my head below the edge of the box at the moment she entered the room (Mummy was sure I was hiding but actually I had just noticed a small movement in the box and wanted to ensure it wasn’t a creepy spider or some such creature).

To make a long story short, we were falsely accused of breaking and entering, then predictably unceremoniously tossed out on our ears. I tried to explain about the [potential] spider but she wasn’t having any of it. I glanced at Poppet, fellow prisoner and realized he hadn’t an ounce of care.

 He appears to be feeling quite smug about the whole thing.

And Mummy just noticed the collateral damage in the SR so I think it best to drop the matter and slither back down the stairs to where dinner awaits!

Tuesday, March 20, 2018

Dental Seizure

Dad behaved badly this morning - I can't think why. 

I was on the bathroom counter minding my own business, listlessly chewing on his toothbrush (it tasted deliciously like peppermint, which I love!), while waiting for my morning drink from the faucet, when Dad quite rudely snatched the dental accoutrement from my grasp and THREW IT IN THE TRASH CAN! 

Then he said I ought not to be doing that. 

I was astonished at his bizarre behavior - out of the blue, snatching things from people and throwing perfectly good toothbrushes away.

 I am thinking I should tell Mummy about it 'cause that doesn't seem right. 

Next thing you know, he'll be throwing away that glass I drank out of!


Mummy has a bizarre habit of asking the silliest questions. I am of the opinion that most situations are self-explanatory but nevertheless she persists in her inquisitions.
Here are some examples of what we kitties must tolerate each and every day of our 9 lives, along with the obvious [I think] answers:

What ARE you doing? [I am thinking, Mummy, that it should be apparent. If you are done, I will get back to shredding this plant now. ]
Why do you persist in ignoring me? [When you have something important to discuss, I will definitely listen. For example, tell me all about what we are having for dinner – that will get my attention. Better still, show me!]
Why must we always have mice floating in the water dish?[They were dirty!]
Where are all your toys? [Under the sofa…where you obviously hide them. I merely mention it…]
WHO is plucking on the carpet? [Um, not me! *scamper, scamper, scamper*]
What DO you think you are doing? [What do YOU think I am doing?]
Why do you have to have all the cabinet doors
 open? [I can’t see through them, you know.]
Why can’t you keep your litter in the box where it belongs?[Oh, is that where it goes?]
Who pulled the clothes out of the laundry hamper? [*crickets chirping*]
Who ate the tops off all the muffins? [mmm…Mot me! *swallow* I was just standing here, honest!]
Where did my pen go? [*THWACK* 10 points! Yaaaaayy, yaay, ya…UM..aheh…*gulp*]
What are trying to tell me? [Are you deaf?]
Where are you? [Not telling…]
Why did you do that? [You wouldn’t understand. Best to leave it alone.]
Are you ever going to learn? [Learn what, exactly?]
Are you sleepy? [No…*yawn*...ZZzzzz…]

I could go on but the list is endless, and I wouldn’t want to bore anyone. To be sure, Mummy is, I think, a bit out of her mind. I mean to say, who would not know all of the above without resorting to a thousand questions? 
Only a parent, I s'pose.

Tuesday, November 28, 2017

Merry Christmas To All My Family and Friends!

Merriest of holidays to all!

It has been a long time since Mummy even bothered to update my diary so there is much to catch up on. But I do not wish to bore, only to say that we kits love all our family and friends very much and especially thank Unca David and Aunt Chrystal for looking after us when Mummy abandons us. 
And for making sure their urchins got bigger instead of staying small and bothersome over the years.  

And we would like to thank Cousin Carl (aka Private Small Frye) for keeping his parents in line when they don't do things right. He knows how to run the place! Going to make a fine general some day.

Whisker-y kisses and fuzzy hugs to everyone!


Augustus, Man of the House.
Except when he is bad and opens all the kitchen cabinets. 
And nabs the treats Mosby works so very hard to get from the treat tower.
And hangs on Mummy's arm, all claws, while she is trying to type at her computer. (Which he might be doing as we speak...).

And the list goes on. But as I said, it is not my desire to bore.


Here are pictures of a few of us getting into the ol' Christmas spirit!

Saturday, March 19, 2016

Augustus, Enigma

Hello, Everyone!

To while away the long, dreary hours that is our life, Mummy made a digital puzzle of me on jigidi, and I want to share it with you all in case you are looking for something to do while lounging.

If you wish to solve the puzzle that is Augustus (er, that didn't come out right...), please go here:

Augustus' Puzzle

Do let me know if you enjoyed it!

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Poor, Dear Mummy

Mummy is hurt!

It’s like this…

I am Man Of The House, and as such Mummy leaves me in charge when she is gone, even if it is just outside for a few minutes.

As Man Of The House, it is my solemn duty, once I have made my rounds and ensure all kits are behaving themselves adequately, to inspect all cabinets in the house.

It is a tedious job but someone has to do it.

Anyways, it was getting dark when I finished the last kitchen cabinet.  There were a few trays stacked neatly in this one as well as an interesting sack full of what nots that I was sure Mummy had forgotten about – she needed to be reminded of their existence, in case there was something she no longer wants or needs that kits may find enjoyable to play with. *cough*

As I was perusing the scattered contents of the now tipped over sack, Mummy came blasting in from her evening Outdoor Chores (mysterious doings we kits are hard pressed to explain, particularly in 105 degree weather), and as she was headed straight for the darkening kitchen, and - as previously mentioned – I was just about done with my job for the night, I biffed off to inspect something – anything – else….

A bang.

A shout.

A “Who the blazes...?”…

It occurred to me that I may have, in my haste to disappear, er, finish up in other areas of the house, failed to close the doors in the kitchen and that Mummy, poor thing, unable to see so vividly in the dark as we kits (not everyone can be endowed with such unique skill) ran smack into it. I peeked around the corner to find Mummy hobbling about and muttering to herself. I admit to finding it a smitch humorous that she is so clumsy.....

Funny, I would swear I heard my name mentioned but can’t think why.

Seeing as Mummy is not feeling too grand, and further seeing that she is beginning to make a sinister connection between her bump in the dark and my daily duties, I feel it best to allow her time to settle down. Later on I will, perhaps, check in on her. For now, I will endeavor to continue my duties upstairs.

Did I mention I hadn’t even gotten to the cabinets in Dad’s study yet? 

Thursday, June 26, 2014

The Belly Of The Beast

So sorry for leaving you all in suspense while poor Fletcher's life hung in the balance!

My friends will be pleased to note that after much begging and pleading (also with a little help from Mummy who wrestled The Monster to the floor and ripped off his entire tummy to retrieve Fletcher from his lint-covered prison), Fletcher is safe! 

He was in relatively good spirits after his ordeal, bouncing around and saying he would know what to do about it if that Great Oaf Monster ever tried any funny business like that again. Fletcher, er, did need a bit of a bath, and Mummy thought it judicious to simply wash him with the towels - he came out sparkling white and smelling like flowers! 

Now, to keep him from tearing into The Monster, I keep Fletcher as far away as possible when Mummy is walking the fell beast. 

Thanks ever so for all the support and encouragement - it is an ordeal Fletcher will not soon forget!