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The Diary Of The King

The Downside To Turning 30

Greetings My Loyal Subjects,

On November 14th, your King will be celebrating his sixth birthday. I will therefore, in cat years, have reached the ripe old age of 30. And I know my exact birthday, so I can not claim to have another few years to go.

There are downsides to turning 30. I have entered- eek!- middle age and I feel it in my bones. I feel the cold a lot now and it makes me all achy, particularly in my hip and pelive, which have aged prematurely due to my accident at six months old. I also find myself needing more sleep, although that may be due simply to the darkness and all round depressing time of year. I hate winter!

By far the biggest downside to any birthday, though, is the visit to the vet that it requires. Even though I owe my life and my mobility to the skill of my vets, I have never enjoyed these visits. I find travelling by car very uncomfortable and going into my carrier is unsettling, as I'm very fond of enclosed spaces, which are usually comforting to me and the carrier always means I'm going to a strange place where there will be scary people and dogs and nasty smells and unpleasant things will happen. And not only scary things, but undignified things too. And I value my dignity.

This year, my check up started with my vaccination boosters which were fortunately not painful. The vet examined my hip, though, and rotated it to check my range of movement and that hurt. My hip is a tender area. After my examination, the vet announced that I was in excellent health and the removal of my arthritic hip bone had been a total success. Her only concern was my teeth. I live on a diet of wet food as I don't like the dry stuff and am also a very able hunter. This means my teeth are in need of a clean. I had my teeth cleaned around my third birthday and now that I'm nearing my sixth, a second clean has been scheduled for Monday, November 26h.

That Monday is going to be a very big day in our family. I am going to the vet to be anaethetised for a thorough dental examination and to have my teeth cleaned. And my sister will be having her first ever day at work! After 14 months of job searching, she has been offered a very pleasant admin job and will be starting a two-week trial period. If all goes well, this should then become permanent.

It's all going on in our family!

Thank you for listening.

The King XXX

5 Long Years

Greetings My Loyal Subjects,

It has been five long years since my brother Jet earned his wings at just 11 months old. It is something my family can still feel very bitter about, both given Jet's age and the fact that I had already been hit by car when he died. If I had also died my family would have lost both of their recently acquired kittens- we went to our new home aged four months- within six months of each. And 11 months old is too young to die, far far too young. Cats can live around 15 years or more! My family had one cat who reached 20.

Jet had not developed his whole personality but was fast becoming a wonderful character. He was totally the opposite of me and not only in looks- I am a ginger tabby while he was pure black- but in nature, too. While I was adventurous, Jet was always cautious and extremely sensitive. He hated loud noises and only ventured outside hesitantly. The only day he went further afield was the day he got killed and we think he had been startled by something, running the wrong way and into the raod, rather than towards home.

The thing that made losing Jet more tragic for all of us, is that it was a week before we found out what had happened. Mum let us out early on Monday morning and Jet simply never came home. The rest of the week was fraught with uncertainty and fear. Was he cold? Hurt? Had he been wrongly adopted as a stray? We scoured the neighbourhood and delivered flyers. Our insurance company even offered a reward.

In fact, Jet had been killed not long after he left home. Being black, he was invisible when he ran into the road. It was October and still very dark until mid-morning and this was about 6am. The driver who hit him would never have seen him. We do feel angry at the driver still but try not to. They did have the decency to stop and lift Jet onto the grass beside the road, so his body would not be run over again.

The children of a man who lived on the street told him that there was a cat 'asleep' in the grass, so he must have looked very peaceful. The man took Jet home to lay him to rest there but then he received our flyer. Of course, he knew he had our cat. Mum took the phone call he made and went round to collect him. The man was as upset as she was and would not accept the reward money. Mum thanked him a lot. We brought Jet home and buried him in the garden and when summer arrived, we erected a shed on top of his grave, so he would always be safe.

It was a great comfort to us that he had died instantly and had not suffered or been stuck out in the wet and the cold. But it was hard. I was still sick from my own accident at the time and we were angry.
Jet had been turning into such a wonderful, handsome cat and such an endearing, unusual character. He had only the faintest miaow and hardly ever used it but an incredible throaty purr. When he purred, his whole body shook with it. I have never been much of a treader but Jet loved to tread everything. And when he did, he would go into a trance, his eyes rolling in his head.

After they lost their baby blue, even Jet's eyes were black. It was so strange. Apart from his mouth, only his pads, which were a gorgeous rich chocolate brown, were not black. He also had six white hairs. It was so cute. Just six white hairs, under his chin. Jet nearly always moved very slowly, he prowled, like a panther. You would catch him from the corner of your eye, coming through a gap in the door and jump out of your skin.

It distressed my family that initially, at least, I seemed unaffected by his loss. But we had been separated for so long while I was at the vet and then confined to a cage for six weeks to rest my hip, that we had grown apart. I certainly noticed the quiteness and it was hard, not having anyone to play with.

When my family moved, my sister and Mum particularly struggled with leaving Jet behind. It felt wrong. But they had me with them, as a link to him. And this year is not like the intervening four years since his death. This year, thanks to his Catster page, there is a place for us to mourn him. And people to mourn with.

It never gets easier Jet. But you're in a happy place. Have you met up with Mum's old cats? Jess and Gladys will look out for you. Miss you lots, little bro.

Simba XXX

The Great Dog Escape!

Greetings My loyal Subjects,

My sister and I would be very grateful if you all breathe a big relieved sigh and think happy thoughts and good luck for me as you read this, because for a while this afternoon, my sister thought she may have to inform you of my sudden death today. I had a very lucky escape from certain severe injury or even death, at the paws of a neighbour's dog.

The dog is called Becky. She is a Staffie, younger than Zack, who lives about two seconds away from us. The houses round here are laid out quite strangely and the row her house is on looks out onto a patch of grass at the side of my house, where I can often be found. She knows Zack and they get on well but Zack is not happy with her after today.
Becky lives with a tabby cat, of which she is enormously protective, although she hates cats in general. She has the chase-and-kill instinct of many terrier breeds, which thankfully Zack, due to his cross-breed genetics and growing up with two cats, has not developed. He's very friendly to all cats, though they are understandably terrifed of him.

To return to the story of the Great Dog Escape, Becky was out in her garden when she heard the tell-tale yowls of two cats fighting. She'll do anything to protect her tabby cat and has also been known to get out of her garden before. Can you see where this is heading? Cringe!
I certainly couldn't. I had been quite far away on a mission and was not even involved in the fight. I was returning home, just as Becky broke out of her garden, upset by the fight. It's worth noting, that we don't even know if her cat was involved.

Becky caught sight of me. And, of course, I ran. I'm a cat. It's what we do in the face of strange dogs. But this, of course, led Becky to chase me. With a slight head start on Becky, I pelted off, racing through the estate, between houses and over the grass. Then I saw an old rival, a black and white tom, one of two brothers who detest me and once got me trapped up a tree, circling below. I raced towards him and he too became embroiled in the chase but not for long. I have a deformity of one of my rear hip joints, the legacy of a car accident at 6 months and my movement, particularly at speed, is impaired. Check my archives for all the back story, in my very first diary entry.

For a while, Becky pursued us both but my rival began to get further ahead of her and sped off in another direction, out of her way. My hip was starting to play up by this time and Becky was gaining on me, so she let him go and focused on me. The chase had caused quite a large commotion and it was about this time that Mum saw what was going on. She saw us race around the corner, my rival flit out of sight and me run off, with Becky on my heels. She ran outside in her vest, for she was midway through getting ready, but we were there and then we had gone. It was so fast.

She went back inside in a panic and told my sister and it was now that they both felt real fear for my safety. But I escaped. And here's how. I ran in the direction of a garden, where I knew there was a hole in the fence and squeezed through it. Becky could not follow me. She had to give up. I stayed there for a while, pretty stunned, getting my breath back. Then I heard Mum coming. She had thrown on the last of her clothes and come charging out into the estate to find me. She knew the garden was one of my haunts. I slipped out of the hole- there was no sign of Becky now- and followed her home.

Inside, much to Mum's amazement and relief, I seemed unharmed by my high speed chase but she examined me all over- paws, hips, back, tummy, head- while giving me lots of fuss and hugs. I had a little bit to eat and then went upstairs to my brother's bed. A big sleep seemed to be called for. My sister, meanwhile, still wondering how I was, went and had a bath. Emerging from the bathroom, to find me settling in for a nap, she gave me a big fuss. And a big talking to, for how much I had scared her.

Phew! So that is the story of my Great Dog Escape. No harm done. A few years off the lives of my Mum and sister, perhaps, but not a life lost for me. And I have been outside since so appear not to be too traumatised. The King has faced worse and the show must go on...

Thank you for your happy thoughts.

The King XXX