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Simply CJ - The Kitten Diaries

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"Simply CJ" was an online column written for the website catsgalore.com, which sadly doesn't exist any more (or at least if it does it's nothing to do with me). However for old times sake the simply CJ page has been faithfully recreated here.

Beds.

Age: 3 months (Human equivalent: 4 years old)

Does anyone want to buy a cat basket ?

Having spend a small fortune on a scratching post, a variety of cat toys and a cat basket which isn't so much a basket but more of a "cat-sized deluxe sleeping experience", CJ decided, more or less from the first night we had her, to sleep in an old cardboard box.

We were horrified. Actually I say we, my wife was horrified and promptly fetched the best of our collection of old towels in order to make the box into something that could, at a stretch, be described as "comfortable". I just looked at CJ and wondered whether this is her way of telling me that she would not, under any circumstances, be treated in a manner that might suggest she was subservient to us. Maybe I'm crediting her with too much guile. No, on reflection I don't think I am.

I'm not sure whether CJ has access to the the internet and therefore these diary entries, but in a determined effort to make me into a liar, in recent days CJ's choice of sleeping venue has expanded to include the flower pot (particularly during the day when the sunlight comes into the utility room) and an old waste paper bin which has a few old carrier bags at the bottom. Both these items have also been "enhanced" with old towels by my wife.

Meanwhile, the cat toys (with the exception to the mouse which occasionally gets groomed), remain to the best part, untouched. A bit of old ribbon on the other hand is proving to be the hottest ticket in the world of cat entertainment, closely followed by any bit of crap that happens to be lying about on the floor (dust, dead beetles, crumbs - you must think we live in filth), whilst in third place there's always the cat litter. Sweeping up piles of cat litter, and removing bits of cat litter from CJ's eyes and nose are now regular events which my wife and I have now effortlessly incorporated into our daily routine.

And whilst we're on the subject, let me just mention the scratching post - who in God's earth ever believed that a cat would use one of these things ? I'd seen them in peoples houses, and so we made sure we had one long before CJ even arrived but CJ has ignored it completely right from the very start. She hasn't even looked at it with her head-cocked-on-one-side quizzical way that she does everything else. I have to admit though, I don't blame her one bit. Why would a cat use a scratching post when there are perfectly good chairs and carpets and walls everywhere else. Why walk to the same place of the house to sharpen ones claws. As if they needed sharpening anymore than they are already.. but don't get me started on that one...

The Cat Arrives

Age: Nine weeks old (Human equivalent: Somewhere between 1 year and 2 years old)

It's an odd experience. Becoming a cat owner for the first time. And I'm not sure here, but I'm willing to bet, that the experience is all the more odd if your cat, like ours, is a mere 9 weeks old.

I'm fairly familiar with cats, of course I am; I've had friends with cats and I've "cat sat" .. but somehow that didn't prepare me for getting one myself.

On the day that we got our as yet un-named moggy, I returned home to find my wife, who went and got the cat earlier that afternoon, was absolutely shattered. So much so that she greeted me at the door, told me my dinner was in the oven, nd promptly went to bed. I was a little perplexed - when I'd called that afternoon from the office she'd told me that she'd spent most of the afternoon in the lounge unable to move for fear of waking our new pet, who had decided to curl up and fall asleep in her lap.

So, as my wife put herself to bed I decided to introduce myself with our new house guest. Armed with the previously purchased toy mouse I entered the lounge.

Tiddles (temporary name) was asleep. I realize now that I should have left her that way, but stupidly I decided to wake her and unleash an evening of chaos.

Having woken the cat she wasn't the slightest bit interested in the mouse. She was however absolutely fascinated with our flower pots, of which we have many, and which she clearly felt had far too much earth in them. I watched in horror as she leapt into each one and started digging for all she was worth, showering the living room floor with dirt.

The next few seconds were a blur as I tried to figure out what to do. First I grabbed her and put her back on the floor, but the moment I let go she was back in the pots, emptying their contents. So next I tried to find a room that didn't have any potted plants - a surprisingly difficult task, especially with a wriggling cat that didn't want to be held right now. Once I'd found somewhere I tried to get a dustpan and brush and return to the living room to tidy up the mess, but as this involved opening doors, doors that were until a second ago keeping the cat and the plant pots apart, and as the cat could move faster than a fast thing, I quickly found myself back in the original situation - one small cat, and a rapidly increasing amount of mess.

It was only at this juncture that it occurred to me that there might be a reason for this digging.. perhaps the cat need to.. oh my god ! Do we even have a litter tray ?

I swept the cat up again in my hands, tried to ignore the pain as she sunk her claws into me in her efforts to get free, and charged through the house looking for the cat litter tray.

Fortunately I found it. We have a utility room out back, which as well as the normal collection of junk (an empty box, an old flower pot, our collection of red wine given to us by friends and family - we don't drink red wine) now had a cat basket, a scratching post and.. a cat litter tray. I deposited the cat in the cat litter and stepped back. A moment passed whilst she stood and surveyed her surroundings. Had I passed the test ? Was this what the cat was trying to tell me with her digging ? No. She merely started shoveling litter out of the tray, and onto the floor. I was a failure as a cat owner.

The smell of my burning dinner shifted my focus somewhat. And I'm ashamed to say I closed the door of the utility room and left her to wreak havoc on her own, whilst I went to retrieve whatever burnt remains I could find in the oven.

After I'd eaten, and cleaned up the lounge, I ventured back to the utility room to see what chaos awaited me. Imagine my surprise then when, as I opened the door, there was cat litter all over the place, but no cat.

I should explain at this point that our utility room is not large. Our house is Victorian and the Victorian's, whilst keen on having lots of rooms, didn't necessarily need them to be that big. The original 1912 plans of our house mark the utility room as a bedroom, but in reality you'd be hard pushed to get even the smallest bed in there. It's really nothing more than a small corridor between the hallway and the back door, so small in fact that we have a sliding door to save space, but the fact that the room has a few fitted cupboards, a small work surface and the washing machine makes it the "utility room".

It's not a room you could get lost in. Even if you're only 4 inches tall.

I closed the door. How had she got out ?? I was just about to start running around the house in panic or at the very least working out what I would tell my wife ("honey, don't be alarmed but whilst you were resting I kind of lost the cat..") when I heard the now familiar sound of stuff being emptied out of a container onto the floor.

I opened the door again. She was back !!

I closed the door. Waited. Opened it again. She was gone ! Fantastic, I thought, we have a cat that can turn invisible. How useful. As if things weren't complicated enough.

I was contemplating phoning the folks at New Scientist, or the local vet, just to check that invisibility wasn't a common phenomenon, particularly in cats, when it occurred to me to try shutting the door again, this time with me in the room.

The door slides between the units and the wall, it's not a space that I'd previously given much thought to, but it's wide enough for a small kitten to get into and as I slid the door closed, a slightly dusty kitten appeared from the recess where the door had been. My mind did summersaults. If the cat had been in the gap where the door usually is when it's open, how comes I hadn't heard a squeal each time I'd slid the thing open ? I got down on my hands and knees. And cursed. Specifically I cursed Mark. Mark is the name of the builder who fitted the cupboards and the sliding door. He's therefore the person who thought it was ok to leave a gap at the bottom of the cupboards, albeit out of sight, but thereby allowing our cat access to a world of dust and darkness completely out of reach of her owners.

Thirty minutes later I'd stuffed two screwed up newspapers and one old pillow between the wall and the cupboards. The door no longer slid all the way open, such that to get in and out of the utility room it's now necessary to walk sideways through a very small gap, but at least she couldn't vanish on me. At least, not for the moment.

"I'm not sure about you," I said holding her up and trying to look her in the eyes, "but I'm going to bed." And with that I put her in her basket. She jumped straight out. Of course.

"You ok ?" said my semi conscious wife as I slipped into bed next to her.

"Absolutely shattered." I said.