It may get hairy…

Posts tagged ‘cat’

We all kick bum

Quick note, as I’m running around like an unlucky chicken:

We hit 2000 views yesterday!!

Yay! Ok, it’s not much in comparison to your average blog, but baring in mind my unstable blogging style, it’s freaking AWESOME!

Quick side note: Slash and the Handbag dog had a Mexican standoff last night. Slash sitting calmly on the steps, a meter away from Handbag dog, while Boggle-eyes goes bat-shit crazy, running loops and barking like mad. Each time he ventured to Slash, Slash took one threatening step towards him and he bolted….which is when Slash started to stalk him.

I’m so proud 🙂

Now back to being an unlucky chicken.

Slash vs the Handbag dog

This lasted a good 1.5 hours. The only time Slash moved, was to advance. So, so proud 🙂


“It’s beginning to look a lot like”….a lot of bloody work

Last night, I donned my Christmas hat, got out my wine and unpacked all the Christmas decorations.

I’d like to place an emphasis on ‘all.’ Let’s remember that I’ve been away for nigh on two years and have had no decorations throughout that time, so I looked forward to coming back, calmly putting up the lights and decorations and moving on.

So I put up my tree and unpacked my decorations. The result was this:

In case you were wondering, all those things around the lamp are lights. All the things on the coffee table are lights. I have, I think, 12 sets of working lights.

Can someone please tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do with them?

I’m not good when given choices. Set me on my way with one route and I’ll go that way (as long as I have the illusion of freedom). Don’t give me 12 sets of lights! It took me roughly 45 minutes just to decide which ones to put on the tree.

I put them all on. Checked them. Moved them. Nudged them into symmetry (OCD). And then decided they sucked. So replaced the coloured lights with another set. Then added the original set. Then realised it was too crowded and took the new set off.

Last night, I started at about 7pm and ended at 11pm. Not drunk, because I was too busy faffing with bloody lights to drink. I managed to put up a wreath (very pretty, I must say, even if done over the monkey/kitten mesh), put up my tree and put the lights on said tree. That’s it. There are no baubles. There are two pieces of tinsel on the tree. Nothing else.

And this morning I woke up, looked at the tree and thought ‘Fuck it, we’ll have to start again.’

Does anyone else have this kind of OCD or is it just little ol’ me?

On that note, the baubles come next.

“Rest ye merry gentlemen” my arse…

Side note: Four stockings. There is one person in this house. My folks have their own. What was I thinking? About 10 random wall hanging things. Seriously? Old Sez, what the hell were you thinking? Tacky much? A packet of Reindeer Food…with, dear lord, two-year old chocolates in. Three or four decorative mini trees (wire and bead ones). 9 hats…although those are cool, if they survive the kittens. GARDEN decorations and outside lights that no longer work.

Top 10 Christmas List – It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted, not that many’d notice ;), but I haven’ t had much to chat about. Things are alright and I find that when I’ve nothing to be pissed at, writing doesn’t come all that easily.

SO, in celebration of the season, I’m going to list why I absolutely freaking love Christmas, even if I’m not allowed to celebrate it yet (although, the Mammoth doesn’t have those restrictions, hence his festive hat).

Firstly, I’m not religious. For those that don’t know, the fact that I don’t burn up when I walk into a church is nigh on a miracle. Having been to a convent (albeit for only a few years) and forced to lie in confession, I’m slightly against the whole religious thing, although I envy the religious few I know…comfort and all that.

Nope, Christmas for me is all about me! Well, just about everything. It’s the one time of year that everyone has to be happy. Yes, it can be sad and horrible for a few. The last  two years were difficult for me, as I hadn’t my family with to celebrate, so I tried to ignore everything remotely festive, but this year, I’m going to ignore all that negativity and be one of those ridiculously cheery people that go around humming “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.”

So, my favourite bit of Christmas is decorating the house, which family tradition dictates I can do on the 8th. I wait until around 8pm, turn the lights down low, put either Christmas songs or some slow, funky, hip wavering music on and then I pour myself a rather large glass of wine and get a mince pie. As it’s summer, I’m dressed in almost nothing (another reason I prefer this tradition to be alone, we wouldn’t want to blind anyone or leave them scarred) and I slowly decorate my house, with more than a modicum of OCD (symmetry has it’s place even in Christmas) and proceed to get tanked.

I do not clean up. I most often pass out on the couch and wake up to a god-awful mess and accompanying god-awful headache on my birthday…

This year I’m looking forward to dressing the Guns in tinsel and taking a ridiculous amount of pictures; Ballot, the Yellow Rat Snake, has already been given a Christmas house, as he crushed his last one a few days ago; and I will start wearing my Christmas earrings from the 9th.

So, my top ten things at Christmas:

  1. Christmas Songs! My favourites being Jingle Bell Rock, It’s Beginning to look a lot like Christmas, and All I Want for Christmas is you. Oh, wait, I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas, Frosty the Snowman … oh bugger it, I love ’em all!
  2. Mince pies. The nice ones, with loads of sugar on the top and the ones that don’t fall apart when you bite into them.
  3. Red wine…loads and loads and loads of red wine.
  4. Lights! My house lights up like a UFO.
  5. Memories. Mainly the ones that come from decorations. I have a pair of little porcelain boots that were given to me at my Christening.
  6. Biscuits – the crunchy ones and lots of them. I always buy a massive tin around the 9th.
  7. Strange smiling. It’s the one time of the year that I can smile at strangers, without them taking a step backwards or averting their eyes. They actually smile back. Granted, I do this throughout the year, but it’s nice to have it returned
  8. The Magic. There’s a buzz, a magic, in the air that just makes me smile non-stop. People go out of their way to help you. Share stories and chat with you more than they normally would. I know it should be like this year-round, but I can’t help but appreciate the small amount of time it does happen.
  9. Kids. I envy all the new mums and the mums and dads of toddlers, who get to partake in that age-old tradition of Christmas Tales. Whether he’s Santa, Father Christmas or St Nick, kids have this endless energy, optimism, excitement and their own special magic that makes watching them worth every second of preparation and every penny you’ve spent on Christmas.
  10. “But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be
    On your own front door.”*


So what’re your favourite things about Christmas? The weirder, the better I say! Comment below!

*PS. For the sad and melancholy few, I’m really sorry. I do know the feeling, regardless of the above cheer. Here’s a virtual hug from me to you –  [    you    ].

The world is a vampire*

So I’ve had some time for retrospection and feel a need to ramble some.

I’m fully aware that to publicly accuse someone can have severe consequences. I didn’t really think those consequences through, but in hindsight, I feel I can forgive myself this slip of impulsiveness (I want to write ‘impulsivity’, and although Wikipedia says I’m right, Firefox says I’m wrong).

I know I some times make jokes to make things seem lighter and less serious – partly for others’ sakes, as it’s never nice having your wall/inbox filled with negativity, but it’s also partly for me. When something hits me really hard, I can’t just grieve, or get mad, a part of me has to keep it within and that’s the part that jokes, so that no one knows exactly how I feel.

The anger I have at this man goes beyond words. I’m angry because he lied, I’m angry because he lied to me for so long, but most of all I’m angry because he hurt an entirely innocent animal. Yes, the abuse wasn’t beating her, or kicking her, but was neglectful abuse – to me that makes it no less cruel.

I’m also aware of my part in this. Regardless of what the end result was, I shouldn’t have left her with someone else. I should have stayed in SA, instead of dropping everything and going traveling. Leaving Nibbles and Shadow was probably the hardest part of my traveling (as you can explain when you’ll be back to humans), but remorse doesn’t justify actions.

I know I’m facing criticism (unsaid, but definitely implied) in leaving my cats, firstly, in publicly accusing him, secondly, and in ‘replacing’ Shadow with the Guns.

I hope those that know me, know me well enough to know that nothing could replace Shadow and that I would never attempt to ‘replace’ any animal. The Guns were acquired because they needed me and, perhaps in part, because I needed them. Both the Guns and Shadow are (perhaps was, in the latter case, which breaks my heart) very sociable and, should I have gotten Shadow back, I would have had to get her company regardless, so the aim was to have three cats in total.

My dreams last night showed me just how much this has affected me. I went to bed early, because my pc had decided to join forces with my conscience and wouldn’t let me play the episode I was hoping would help me forget my woes….thus, my guilt took hold.

In hindsight, the dream was humorous, but shortly after midnight (at which stage I’m usually not yet asleep), I woke sweating and grabbing for the Guns. I had dreamt that Eric Northman (vampire from True Blood, who has only ever seemed delicious rather than dangerous to me) owned the Guns and had kept them for his ill-will. I set out to rescue them from some interminably clichéd abandoned barn and got quite far, after several attempts and almost run-ins with ‘bad guys.’ Eventually, I got the Guns in the car, locked up and started the car…only to find picturesque Eric sitting next to me, gun in hand (literal gun, not a kitten), which is when I woke up.

It sounds stupid, as most dreams are, but I woke realising that I’m not doing a bad job protecting and raising the Guns. They’re as healthy as anything according to the vet and, as I type, they’re climbing all over me and the back of my chair (we both have the scratches to prove it).

I’ve never been one who has the courage of my convictions. In fact, I rarely ever believe that what I’m doing is right, although I know I almost always try to do the right thing, it often backfires, or I screw up. The problem with having an unlimited supply of anger, is that when it’s coupled with a cruel and blaming conscience, it becomes a right nag.

So after all my actions yesterday, I was left wondering. Did I do right? The answer is, not with the Facebook post. I shouldn’t have posted, I know that, but in hindsight I’m not going to beat myself up about it. That was my revenge, perhaps immature, perhaps silly, but it was my slight way at getting back at him. I needed him to know I know. That I’m aware that he’s been lying to me for so long.

However, my revenge is now done and what I need to do now is the right thing for others. This isn’t about me any more. As any abuser (towards humans or animals) he must be stopped and I will do everything in my power to make sure that he doesn’t hurt any animal again.This afternoon, I’ll be meeting with the police to see what they advise I do. They will know the right authorities to report animal cruelty to and they’ll tell me whether it will be worth it to charge him with theft.

To those that have supported me and/or given me brilliant advice, thank you so much. I’m not sure I would have the courage of my convictions this time if it weren’t for you.

For those that criticise, it’s cool, I was an ass. I’ll take the brunt of your criticism.

*As per normal, if I can’t think of a title, I use the song in my head. With the Eric Northman thing, it’s no surprise this was the song playing.

Animal abuse is punishable

So I’ve been told I should blog about what’s happened. If anything, just to feel better and in part to publicly accuse a man guilty of animal neglect, which amounts to abuse.

I’m not sure what to write, to be honest. So, instead of stuffing meaningless words into a post, for once I’ll just tell you the facts as I know them.

To protect myself legally, although I’m not sure if it helps, these facts are hearsay. I haven’t any proof other than emails I received from people who benefit in no way from lying to me. Thus, I believe them.

Today I was informed that we don’t know how Shadow is or whether or not she was put down. We will never know.

It turns out that Jacques van Dyk took Shadow, a beautiful, healthy 4 year old cat when he broke up with his fiancé. He prohibited her from taking the cats, which included her own Persians and Shadow. By this stage, Niblet had passed away a happy cat  (for that I am forever indebted to his fiancé).

From what I understand, the fiancé kept in touch with their landlady in order to check upon the cats. Up until she received a call from the landlady, the cats were healthy. The call was to find out whether the fiancé knew where Jacques was, as he had apparently packed up and left in the middle of the night.

Leaving all the cats locked in the house with no food.

The cats were alive and alright when the landlady found them. The fiancé asked that the landlady wait until she got there, to take the cats somewhere safe. The landlady didn’t wait and took Shadow and the rest of the cats to the SPCA.

From what I understand, this was well over a year go.

The bastard has been lying to me for well over a year. In hindsight, I knew he didn’t have her, but the audacity it took to agree to let me pick her up only a few months ago, is unforgivable.

The neglect of animals who are in your care is unforgivable.

Abandoning them, locking them up in a house and leaving them with no food is abuse and is punishable.

I shall be laying a claim of theft at the police station and shall take all email evidence (including emails and texts from Jacques proving that he had the animals at one stage and his subsequent lies after the fact) to animal rights organisations and the like. The police will also be informed the abuse.

This may not help, but hopefully it will help to scare him into taking care of animals that are in his possession and implied protection.

I am guilt-ridden and heart-broken and so will stop now. I hate myself for leaving her with him and wish I could take it back. If I hadn’t had abandoned my animals with strangers, this would never have happened.

For those who don’t know the story thus far:

Post 1,

Post 2

Post 3

He had the nerve to tell me he was heart-broken.



“This is not America”*

In other words, at the risk of offending, this is not a cat blog.

I recently saw a graph that showed that no matter how smart, funny or wicked you may be, a cat eating a hamburger beats you.

The epidemic of cat pictures has become more than viral, and alongside, man seems to be losing his grip on grammar.

That aside, I recently posted two pieces on my soon-to-arrive kittens. As per usual, I posted these on StumbleUpon, but in my haste, wasn’t diligent in my ‘tagging’ and tagged them merely under ‘blog,’ ‘mammoth,’ ‘babies’ and ‘cats.’

I retain hope that the result was due to the ‘babies’ tag, as it certainly wasn’t due to the ‘blog’ or ‘mammoth’ tags, but I’m enough of a realist to know I’m bullshitting myself. It was the ‘cats’ tag.

If you haven’t already guessed, my usual StumbleUpon referral amount is roughly 12 hits, at its peak it hit 37 – my ‘cats’ tag result? 79.

This upsets me. I love cats, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be bringing in my little rockstars if not, but our obsession with cats and the ridiculous statements that go along with them has gone too far.

So, for those that need to know (perhaps my StumbleUpon referrals): This is not a blog about cats and if I disappoint, sorry. It is a blog that can’t make up its mind whether it’s private or not. Some of my friends use their blogs as a personal and private place to vent their innermost feelings, with total anonymity. Some prefer to write always for an audience. I’m stuck in the middle trying to decide what to do.

To be honest, most of my posts are merely there due to the fact that I cannot think about anything but that subject until I write it down. So for now, it’ll just have to do.

*Insult not intended. When I went to write ‘this is not a cat blog’,’ “This is not America” started playing in my head.

The terrible text

So Mr From a Lesbian texted me this morning (sms for the saffas). I find some black humour in the fact that when he texted, I was in the midst of a made-up scenario that included me in ninja-wear, him in agony and whole bunch of surveillance equipment (which I had used to track the sneaky bugger down…and find proof that he has my cat).

Said text:

“hey girl im so sorry about sadow. f*king hart broken after all this time.”

This was after many texts and calls from me, begging for him to call me back with his Gran’s number, so I could contact her and find out more, which he’d promised to send. I hadn’t heard back from him until this morning. I wonder if he read this blog (he’s on my FB list after all) and knows it’s been suggested I take legal action… I doubt it though.

After my attack of the short fuse, I know he’s more wary of me, so perhaps that’s why he contacted.

But why don’t I believe him? I would much rather believe him, than have this sinking doubt that keeps me up at nights….and not to mention the rage. It ebbs and flows and I resemble a melodramatic schizo.

I joke, but it’s not funny. So I responded, in a rather curt way, asking for his Gran’s number again, so I could contact the nearest shelters. His response was:

“You think i hvnt done that…and sorry I cnt give her extra stress.hope you understand. ill find her” (please note, the cretin’s spelling, not mine).

He won’t find her. He’s lying. Even if I were to take all my emotions out of the equation, logic says he’s so far from the truth it no longer has meaning – there are too many variances. I’ve never been good with logic, it fails me almost daily, but this time, I’m certain.

Firstly, he moves to Durban, apparently has two places, one with the cat, one that’s not pet-friendly. Then, the cat’s in Harrismith with his Gran. I can pick the cat up first of September. He then refuses to answer my repeated calls. Eventually, nearly a month later, he tells me she’s been missing for ages….then tells me missing for a week. Then somehow forgets he told me she’s at his Gran’s. And now he won’t give me said Gran’s number, so I can call the shelters around there.

Am I wrong, or does this not add up? (I’m not so good at maths either).


Side note: for those that don’t know the story, 1st post and 2nd post.

Tag Cloud

%d bloggers like this: