Hi

I have a new job!  At least I think I do.  I’m a doorbell, or so my Mummy calls me. When I do my upside face and look all cutesy at her she puts on a very strange voice and blows raspberries on my bellybits and says I’m a doorbell.

I’m not sure what being a doorbell entails and when Gibbs came round for our nightly wrestling match I asked him if he knew what being a doorbell involved.

‘Beats me!’ was all he said as he tucked into my dinner.

George popped in for his customary 3-sachet breakfast and I asked him if he knew what being a doorbell involved.

He said his knowledge of doorbells was limited but thought someone on the outside pressed something which made a noise on the inside and then someone on the inside opened the door to the person on the outside.  That all sounded a bit complicated to me. So what would they press I asked him as he paused for his second helping.

I mean, if I’m the doorbell, what would they press on me and would I have to be outside for Mum on the inside to hear the noise and would she then open the door and let me inside?

George looked at me for a few seconds and then opened his mouth.  But not to answer my query – oh, no! To take another slurp of cat food. Mum said she’s never seen anyone eat as much as he does. 

She has to close all the doors when George pops round as he likes to pee on the mat by the front door.  She saw him there one day with a look on his face and when he got up there was a huge wet patch all over the mat. He’s peed in our bath, too.  She was cross but she didn’t say anything to George because she believes he lives a stressful life and that he comes to our house to chill out.

But she has to be careful with him as he turns nasty on her.  Do you know, once George caused all that red stuff to leak out of her arm? She’d given him 3 ½ dinners on that occasion and he plonked himself down on our dining room table.  She went over to speak to him nicely as she always does and he grumbled at her.  When she tried to pick him up to put him outside he turned round and scratched her arm in so many places she has a lot of scars now.  And there was red leaky stuff everywhere – all over the table and everywhere.

And then one night when Gibbs and I had finished our wrestling match and were lying next to each other watching NCIS (where Gibbs got his name) I turned upside down on the carpet and did the face. 

Mum did the funny voice again, although this time, she didn’t blow raspberries on my bellybits. ‘You’re a doorbell’ she kept saying over and over.

‘Did you hear it that time?’ I asked Gibbs.

‘Casey,’ he said. ‘You’re a numpty.  You’re not a doorbell. You’re adorable. That’s what your Mum’s been saying, you prawn, you’re adorable, not a doorbell!!!’  

One Cat is Company

"One cat is company.
Two cats are a conspiracy. 
Three cats is an attempted takeover.
Four or more cats is a complete coup!"

Shona Steele (Australia)