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Cat Piss Curtains

No the title of this is not a reference to some new, amusingly named (and therefore awful to drink) wine. Read on to know more.

Where I live there are a lot of cats and it’s very middle class – just up the road there’s some huge gaffs – some gorgeous and some footballer-style “monster cottages”*. Indeed so many cats an alien landing in the pub car park and surveying the scene and peering around would conclude no significant social change since his colleague K’ryll’s last visit in 1912 but a species change. It’s still “Upstairs Downstairs” but the cat’s are masters now – fed, watered, private medical insurance and have the run of the place…

Anyway last night there was something of a fracas upstairs. I would go as far as to call it a hullabaloo. I thought Eric Joyce MP had scaled the ramparts after a few wee drams. My wife goes to investigate and finds our cat, Timmy cowering under the bed after having repulsed a sally by another mogster that had on it’s way in or out the window pissed on the curtains. Timmy was not happy at territory marking in his inner sanctum. Not happy at all. I can’t say me or the missus were exactly ticketty-boo at this outrageous invasion – I mean it’s feline neo-colonialism that is. Anyway, Curtains go in the wash and after the Dame Judith subsides somewhat me and the missus go to bed.

At 4am (isn’t that when special forces tend to strike?) there is a tremendous commotion and quite frankly sounds to curdle the blood and chill the spine. The invader is back! Timmy holds his own guarding the window (we left it partially open to allow the pisstulent miasma out) Just below on the shed roof there is an enormous tabby with the look of a hint of wild cat – very similar looking to the cats you get in Turkey actually.

Other all that than that I slept soundly.

*Yeah and they get to build them on the edge of a national park and technically i’m breaking the law by having a Sky dish. Sheesh! For the record I don’t know of any actual Manchester United or City players who live in this neck of the woods but I wouldn’t rule it out. Certainly no Stockport County players – they all share an ISO crate under the viaduct. I mean for what City pay that work-shy Argie fop Tevez in a week (I can’t believe they’re taking him back – I thought more of Roberto Mancini**) you could buy the entire County squad for what Tevez makes in a week – allegedly GBP 250,000. How do you spend that without a serious Faberge Egg habit?
**At least I thought Tevez after he’d buggered off for an extended stay in Buenos Aires to play golf would find the head of his daughter’s pony grinning at him on the pillow one sunny morn. I mean some guy called Roberto Mancini must know people who know people who “do things”. I could go on but that is another post…

6 Comments

  1. Thornavis says:

    The down side of owning cats, the apparently insatiable urge it produces in other cats to get into your house and piss on the furniture and fittings.

  2. RAB says:

    Sounds like Timmy is having a bit of trouble maintaining his Top cat status then Nick? Golden Bough stuff, twas ever thus.

    And cat pee really is quite virulent. I swear the little buggers use different glands when marking territory, like skunks, rather than when they’re just having an ordinary wizz too.

    But it can be worse you know. How about puppy poo times 11?

    The Luddite Hippie of La Honda (Nigel) his girlfriend Debbie, The Gay Buddhist ( Chris), and I, shared a flat in Newport road Cardiff, circa 1975. We had all been to the States by that point, and the other three were planning to return there permenently (they did).

    Chris had got a job at Cardiff Steel works to save up the money to go, and one night he came home with a dog. It was a big and beautiful bitch who he had taken it upon himself to rescue from the feral pack that roamed the place, because the powers that be were going to have her put down because she was pregnant.

    Well the rest of us wern’t best pleased initially. “WTF Chris! what are we going to do with a pregnant dog??” But our sound and sentimental humanity prevailed, so we kept her and loved her (she was a cracking dog!).

    About a month later she gave birth to 11 pups. All kinds, black, white, long haired short haired, you name it we had one. Dogs can do that see, mate with multiple partners and produce such a variety.

    Luckily we were a ground floor flat with a large enclosed back garden, and we did our best house training them. But at night we had them corralled in a pen made of hardboard about 3 feet high, plastic sheet and multiple newspaper underlay, in a corner of the living room.

    Well this worked fine for a while, mucked it out daily etc. But as they got a bit bigger they got a lot more boisterous, and one night they got out.

    When we came into the living room in the morning, there was shit everywhere, half way up the walls, in shoes, on the carpet, on the record turntable even! But you couldn’t be angry with them, they were just doing what came naturally. And we coped and loved them all to bits. I was quite a wrench when came the point to find them new homes. We kept Doobie, the mum of course.

  3. Bucko says:

    Cat piss curtains? Reminds me of Alan Partridge

  4. Matthew L says:

    I knew a woman once whose lack of, er, intimate hygiene could fairly be described by “cat piss curtains”. Needless to say, I didn’t know her very long.

  5. Lynne says:

    My sister is currently battling shitty kittyitis all over her lounge and kitchen floor. All three cats have gone down with a virus in quick succession. Two have recovered, the other one is working through it.

  6. JuliaM says:

    If you can find the, ummm, deposits while still damp, sprinkle with baking soda. It helps to absorb the odour.

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