...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...

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Catnip Bubbles!

Mummy brought us home a new treat – catnip bubbles!

What fun we have had, watching Mummy hold that little bottle, dig relentlessly for the tiny, stubborn yellow paddle then attempt to blow bubbles for us. 
She makes the most amusing faces, especially when the stuff spatters all over her nose.

She smells very appealing now.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

The Case Of The Disappearing Cheese Roll

Fresh from the store with her arms full of the intriguing and delicious, Mummy piled the contents of the bags onto the counter tiles. Being Man Of The House, a duty taken quite seriously, I supervised the unloading of the foodstuffs with an intent stare. Delicate aromas curled ‘round my nose and drew me ever closer to the goods, one in particular captivating the old senses. What was that distinctive smell? It was like herbs and…let’s see, yogurt? No. Um, milk? Never!

I’ve got it – cheese!

Bread, herbs and cheese – Nectar of the Gods, I believe is the phrase. Or is that Necklace? Nectar, I think. At any rate, immediately I found myself nose to nose with a clear bag of freshly baked cheese rolls (I learned the name because Mummy observed what she referred to as my “greedy stare at her cheese rolls”,  snatching the lovely things away in the process. Only my greedy stare followed her move and noted their final resting place next to the glass canister on the northwest corner of the counter. Note the use of the word “final”….

It is now the midnight hour, and the house is quiet. Or at least as quiet as a house can be with eight kits snoring simultaneously. I am thinking about those delightful rolls and wondering how they are faring, all alone on the northwest corner of the counter, so I am taking a stroll to the kitchen in hopes of catching a glimpse of the golden brown, fragrant delights.

Did I mention I love bread and cheese?

Mummy left for a meeting this morning and merely breezed through the kitchen, swiping her keys from the southeast corner of the counter on her way out the door. Her voice rang out briefly about the package of rolls looking funny but apparently had no time to investigate. After holding my breath for what seemed an eternity then sighing with relief as the lock turned, I fell back into a dream-filled state, resting contentedly on my down pillow and feeling all was right with the world. A few minutes later, I was refreshed and ready to prowl, though there seemed only one place to be at this moment.

Did I mention I love bread and cheese?

Snoozing again (mid-morning nap), I was jarred from sleep by the Mumster returning. Clank went the keys on the marble, plop went the briefcase, sigh went the Mummy. Then “Wait a minute…” went she, and “I thought so!” as well. Who has been eating the cheese rolls, said Mummy, who also followed up with “you little rats” and “I might have known – I can’t have anything nice.”

Enter Mummy via the bedroom door, producing compelling evidence that a Bread Burglar was on the loose – viz: one package of freshly baked cheese rolls with a whacking great hole where a [whole] roll used to be.  The remaining bread was merely a shell of its former self. Even I had to admit it looked pretty bad. Still, that was as far as admissions need go. There is such a thing as discretion, particularly when Mummy is looming overhead wielding a plastic bag that did indeed look as if a rat had been at it. And though I resented being compared to a rat, I found that sobriquet not half so unappealing as the idea that at any moment Mummy may spot the crumbs in my teeth which I had been deeply savoring.

I put forth the notion that perhaps it was rats, or at least mice, as the place is teeming with them (the green one can be especially sneaky, I pointed out). Friedrich and Hortense are lounging in The Pool as we speak, said I, and suggested that Mummy give them a thorough questioning before closing the case. She merely gave me a knowing glance then biffed off to work at her desk, leaving me nonplussed – exactly what did she know? One can never tell with mothers; they are simply vague at times. Still, I find it completely unnecessary to rock the boat, as the old saying goes. Whose boat I cannot say but this is not a time for research.

It is, however, the perfect time for a nap.

So off to sleep I went, having moved a couple of inches toward the sunny southwest corner of the bed. 

Tomorrow is another day!


Sunday, March 10, 2013

The Terrace

Bleary-eyed from a long nights’ sleep, I stumbled into the kitchen at the usual breakfast hour, snacked on a few of the fresh crunchies Mummy had laid out then sat and brooded on the whole thing. The wee hours while it is still dark, and the world has yet to catch up with Mummy, are the ideal time for introspection. This particular morning my thoughts, such as they are, were focused (too unrealistic a word for this time of day, perhaps?) on the bevy of cats milling about the breakfast bar, noting the beginning-of-the-day courtesies extended to one and all (Poppet, for instance, did not even growl at Baby Morgan for entering the room, and Nutmeg allowed Princess to eat out of the dish exactly next to hers - remarkable). 

Following these observations, I adjusted my mental processes to the next logical thing, viz: what to do for the rest of the day. Now that my favorite chair has been replaced by the Window Seat, and the old W.S. was being overrun with young Mosby’s, the day seemed to call for a change of venue. So I determined (after my morning nap, of course) to take a view out of the window above the kitchen sink.

Now this requires some careful maneuvering since I am…er…not actually allowed on the kitchen counter but there are ways to manage such difficulties, particularly when a stalwart individual such as myself is on the task. Thus arising a few hours later (one has to wait until the sun comes up – otherwise, what is the point? Of course, Mummy happened to be outside, too, but that is purely coincidental), I stretched the front legs and arched the old back to get the blood circulating then sauntered into the kitchen. Perusing the remains of breakfast, I spotted a bouncy ball someone had left carelessly lying about the place. This I swatted across the room, scoring with a neat shot straight under the desk. Pleased with my success, I sat and gloated for a bit.

But this was not my ultimate goal - I was on a mission to get a different view of the world so after glancing about to be sure someone would see me (and disappointed to see that everyone else was still in bed, the slackards), I leaped agilely onto the sink…well, admittedly I am not at all agile so it took a couple of squat-and-leap attempts to get there but I did arrive at my destination.

And glancing out of the window onto the wide open plains, I spied something that made all my careful planning worthwhile.

Suddenly, where before there were weeds and wild roses and strange fellows mucking about the place as noted in an earlier chronicle, there stands a terrace. Neat and tidy with white lines all around the stones in a randomly tidy pattern that positively boggles the mind, this split-level terrace is still and clean and full of possibility. There are huge beds in which Mummy says she will plant flowers (presumably for me since she knows I adore fragrant blooms), and there are curving steps and walls that look like fun cat highways. Indeed, as I admired the lovely new outdoor space, a couple of Deck Cats raced along one edge in a sprightly game of chase. My eyes lit up in excitement – Mummy was right [this time]! All the noise and ripping up plants and overturning the earth, along with those nifty piles of sand I secretly longed to burrow my toes in, had resulted in this serene space. 

It seemed a miracle!

Mummy came in to find me admiring the new view; she stroked my neck while explaining that there would be furniture and pretty plants everywhere so it would be like an outdoor living space. I am not 100% certain I understand why she wants to live outdoors when there is a perfectly good indoor space but I concurred that it was indeed going to be a great spot to admire.

Mummy said she was glad I like it, and of course threw in a “told you so” comment.

Then she unceremoniously booted me off the counter with a squalid reminder of the HouseRules.

So much for taking in the new view (at least while she is at home)….

P.S. I will paste photos in my diary when the Terrace  is complete, just so you know it was not my imagination!

Friday, March 1, 2013


Caught on, er, in tape!

We kits did a bad thing.

Well, when I say “we” I actually mean Mosby and Morgan. Of course the others joined in the fray(ing), and I was swept along in the excitement of it all. Just sayin’….

It is nothing, really – perhaps I should not mention it - but there is [*scratch, scratch, scratch*] was this collection of tapes in a bag. And not just any tapes – OLD tapes, recordings dear ol’ Dad had borrowed from his dear ol’ dad of dear ol’ Dad’s dear ol’ dad’s family from yesteryear.

All clear so far?


I mean to say, this shiny, slinky thing was peeking out of the bag, and Mosby began pulling at it, then it grew. And grew. Morgan grabbed a bit and tugged some more, then out shot a whole reel! It rolled across the floor and (did I mention we were upstairs in Dad’s study?) bounced down the stairs, kits of all shapes and sizes traveling in its wake. Someone (I can’t clearly recall – probably doesn’t matter) nabbed the end between his handsome teeth and darted round the corner, across the dining room, between, then around, the table legs, over one chair and into the window seat.

At this juncture the tape snapped, leaving another free end. Naturally a kit grabbed the baton, as it were, and made off with it. This feline had the clever ingenuity (and agility, further evidence it was not I) to jump onto and across the kitchen island, over to the sink and somehow twist the crinkly film about the faucet, where it seemed pleased to remain.
Eventually that reel ran out of steam so another bright idea began flowering – why not go for another?

So we, er, they did.

In short, by the time Mummy walked in the door, the house was redone in Early Tape Recording which I thought added a certain whatsit.

Mummy, on the other paw, was not pleased. As we cringed waiting for our punishment, a few of us with the telltale evidence dangling from our lips, Mummy pulled a raw one on us. Instead of berating us for our fell deed, she simply said Dad would be most disappointed in us. That was shameful enough but there was more to come: viz. the revelation that Grandma reads my diary!

So now I, er, we are in deep trouble ‘cause Grandma thought very highly of those tapes, says Mummy. And she is coming over for dinner tomorrow night!

Did I mention the bathtub escape route has been cut off?