Monkeyshines

Sadly, after 15-odd years and lots of sitting on laps, Binky Mackenzie has died. Upon reflecting on our time together I realised that I have spent more time living with him than any human apart from my mum (Ghengis and Fluff come ahead of him in cat terms). In his later years, in retirement in north Essex, he did lots of sleeping; but I like to remember him in his glory years, when you could lie in bed, thump your hand on the duvet, and hear his paws thudering along as he ran to jump up and sit on your chest.

Binky came to live with Mrs. Monkeyshines and I in the pre-Little-Monkey era, so has been a constant in his young life. I enjoyed watching them together; Binky was mostly oblivious, but the Little Monkey was always very kind, and enjoyed giving him “a nice gentle stroke” and listening to him purring. I don’t know how much he’ll remember about Binky, but perhaps the seed of cat-personhood has been planted…

Is pesky window condensation getting you down? Are your attempts to spy on the neighbours impeded by small drops of water? Fret no more, for a small fee (one pouch of Felix Senior ‘As Good As It Looks’ brand cat food per window) I will clear that window right up for you! (Editor’s note: For an additional fee (one bottle of premium bitter per window) James will come round and wipe the cat saliva from your windows once Binky’s done. Bargain!)

I guess I must have just missed out on the list of The 30 Most Important Cats Of 2011. This year, my friends, is my year, I can feel it in my whiskers.

I have literally been lying low recently, due to the arrival of a small noisy hoomin in my house. Again. I thought that if I was patient, my cuteness would prevail, but the little chap still seems to be dominating the attention, and laps, of my hoomins. The fightback starts here, my friends.

… hoomins are good for food and cuddles, not as sources of labour for charismatic cats.

My hoomins have lately taken to confining me to the tiny moveable room that I hate, and taking me to visit strange hoomins who live in a house that reeks of nasty dog and stinky cat. I recently had to spend all day there, and they dosed me up on some seriously strong catnip – I was literally knocked out, and when I came round they’d stolen one of my teeth! And not just any tooth, one of the good ‘uns, a big pointy one at the front. I was not a happy kitten. Also, a weird coincidence, it doesn’t hurt when I eat anymore. (Editor’s Note: The kind staff at Acorn Vets have looked after Binky very well, for which we are all grateful, even if Binky doesn’t quite understand.)

I would like to make it clear that I will not be amused by any references to ‘Snagglepuss’ that are made in my presence. For the sake of clarity, please refer to the following guide:

I think the least I deserve, if I must live with an attention-grabbing little hoomin, is a nice comfy cat bed. And he gets all the milk he can guzzle (which is plenty, evidently), while I have to hang around in the kitchen, doing my little-cat-lost face to rustle up a bit of sympathy. Humph.