It was Oakley's birthday last week. Thank you to those who left messages for him on his facebook page. He is now fifteen. But I need to record that he is now starting to behave very badly indeed.
Naturally my Guardian reading Mrs gives the cat the run of the house whatever the scale of his crimes. And thus at about four in the morning he comes, from his main bedroom, the nursery, galloping up the stairs to the main bedroom. After wandering to the end of the bed in a circular direction as if he was attempting a Fosbury flop he launches himself on the foot of the bed.
He has now taken to marching to the top of the bed, ignoring the Mrs and lying on the pillow directly on top of my head. If that does not wake me up he may stick his claws into my shoulders. Naturally it is deemed a "breach of his 'uman rights" not to allow him in the room. Thus this is a daily ritual which only ends with me waking up and as I amble downstairs Oakley shooting passed me to start bleating in the Kitchen for food.
I offer him some food and head off to switch on my laptop. By the time I head back to make myself a coffee Oakley has scuttled off back to bed where he sleeps on my side gazing at the Mrs. But not before he has left me a present on the front doorstep. Sometimes its wee, at other times worse and now and again both.
I am beginning to think that I might raise with the Mrs the issue of my 'uman rights rather than those of Oakley. Surely mine trump his? You might think that, but as I describe his latest crimes, the Mrs just gazes at Oakley and whispers sweet nothings to him. In her eyes he can do no wrong. I am at the bottom of the 'uman rights pecking order in this house.