Today is a good day for cat tails. Or tales.
Who knows: if people like them enough, then maybe this could become a regular thing.
As friends and family well know, i am the proud house guest of a re-homed Norwegian Forest Cat by name of Ulfric. Actually, Vieuxtemps Ulfric Stormcloak: but tis embarrassing to own that my cat has a longer and more aristocatic name than i. For Ulfric is the full pedigree!
He came to me, just under two years ago, after it was feared that he would not survive living in London (he tends to wander) and, apart from slight nastiness with a speeding car about 18 months back, he has thrived.
He is local top cat, bossing around all other cats, with the exception of little Tilly, who usually sneaks in from the neighbours’ at breakfast time to share any treats Ulfric has: and if he fails to share, a swift swipe of her paw to his nose reminds him to get back in line.
Tilly apart, Ulfric rules. I am embarrassed to admit that shortly after he arrived, the other neighbour’s ginger tom took to anti-depressants. Not exactly his fault: just, Ulfric was the final straw.
He wanders in and out of houses in the confident belief that he owns them all, and to date i have discovered 6 addresses in my road, where he has taken to dining in between times. Dining and, i am informed, making himself comfortable on any one of six different sofas as well.
Nor is he beyond a little in-house larceny. The other night, taking a phone call, i left uncovered in the kitchen a bowl of mussels. After all, cats don’t eat mussels. Do they?
It was my treat to myself…though in the end, it turned out it was my treat to Ulfric as well. I ended up with about two thirds: he, the rest. Had the call lasted longer, he’d have done better still.
Lesson learnt, and mussels will not, in future, remain unguarded!
Cars remain a worry. He is determined to play chicken with any and all comers and is saved mainly by being possessed of a glorious gloss hi-vis white coat. Often he sits in the middle of the road washing himself, refusing to move even when nose to bumper with a local motorist. Yesterday i watched a mini-procession: two irate drivers in their cars, following after Ulfric sedately strolling down the centre of our little local road, at about 4mph.
Dogs less of a concern. He bullies the local shih tzus: has even, on one occasion, fluffed himself to incredible size and run at a poor unsuspecting gentle giant of a dog – a St Bernard or Newfoundland – who had probably never been attacked by a cat before, and appeared a bit puzzled by the entire event.
Meanwhile, he tries his hardest to catch a squirrel. Out front, there’s a grey who sits atop a tree and chides him for even going there. Much tail swishing, by squirrel and cat alike.
In the back garden, one of our famed Letchworth black squirrels. This one lives far less wisely, being wont to dash from fence to the relative safety of his tree with Ulfric more than once a whisker behind. Will he catch him? I hope not. And what will he do with him if he does? Not sure squirrels are really on his menu – although of course, before last week, i’d have said the same of mussels.
I was winning! Agar.io, since you ask. But its not a game you can take your eyes off for a minute.
Which is why his plonking himself atop my boobs, blocking my view of the screen and pinning my arms to my side was not the best move. I shoved. He just plonked harder: because when Ulfric has decided to sit, he will sit.
By the time we reached compromise, him curled in the crook of my arm, my regaining some semblance of control over the keyboard, twas all over.
Frustrating. But would i have it any other way? Nah. He is a beautiful cat, bringer of furballs and small rodents…and long may he continue to do so!!!