Crack for cats

6MfelinefacepalmWe ran out of cat food the other day. Simple, right? Go buy some more…

…which I did. From the Cat Box Hyper.

A brand I hadn’t seen before, but which had glossy packaging (akin to the packs of Whiskas and Friskies alongside) as well as some nice words in the blurb about how cats will benefit from it.

Haha. Tell that to my cats.

First meal was served.

Cat #1: What is little stones in bowls?

Cat #2: Little stones looks like foodies but gots no smell.

Cat #1: She looking at us like she done somethink special.

Cat #2: Why?

Cat #1: Dunno. Go on, tastes it.

Cat #2: TASTES IT? I don’t eats stones!

Cat #1: Don’t looks at me! Is just a suggestions.

Cat #2: [tastes a piece] What in beelzebub’s hell is this??

Cat #1: Bad, huh? [long pause] HAHA! Looks at your face! *rolls off feeding table in glee*

Cat #2: This is grossestness!

Cat #1: Imma going outside to catch a bird. If you won’t eats it then it must be bad, fatty.

Cat #2: Harhar. Very funny. You think she serious that this must be foodies for us?

Cat #1: [exits catflap without replying]

Cat #2: [perseveres with eating, but continues to give the death stare to the lady of the house; eventually gives up after lady goes out in her car] OK, bitch. Time for payback…

Cat #2 got his revenge. He puked right where I open my car door inside the garage.

The standoff lasted two days. In that time, I got baleful stares. Meows. Grumbles. Supplications of pretend-love and purring. The food in the bowls never even went low enough for the bottom to be revealed.

Eventually, my daughter said we have to surrender and buy the crack-for-cats. Whiskas. In whatever flavour, but it must be Whiskas.

I hemmed-and-hawed…until I reversed my car out the garage and saw Cat #1 busy torturing a hapless dove to death, in order to get some Real Food in his tummy.

White flag was waved. Off to Checkers to buy a large pack of Whiskas.

I came home, and their kitty-nasal-radar-sixth-sense wotsit obviously blared out over the suburb. Two cats into the house like furry barracudas…one purring as if I was The Cat Goddess of Goddesses, and the other staring at me from the counter as if to say, “Don’t try that again, if you value your life and possessions”.

However, I work on compromises. The Whiskas has been mixed in with the little-stones-from-hell so that they have to eat it all together. So far, there’s been no complaint.

I think……………….


A frog he would a-wooing go, Jozi style.

frogstadpolesThe entry quoted below comes from my Facebook page, written last spring.

Some would call it love and romance, but I’d ascribe it to the primal force that drives all creatures.

About two years ago I dumped a jar full of tadpoles in the small pond of my postage-stamp-sized front garden. They thrived. And then they vanished.

Last summer, I was delighted to hear two adult frogs had made it from tadpolehood to being grownups. However, it became evident that these two frogs were females, and no amount of wishful thinking and same-sex laissez-faire on my part would result in new generations of tadpoles.

Some months later I found one turned into roadkill outside my house. Being as I live some 700m away from the watery bits of Alberts Farm, I gave up hope of turning the spinster frog into a mom without getting in a new generation of tadpoles who might provide Ms Frog with partnership possibilities.

Cut to this weekend. I heard frogs calling from a distance, about a block away. Fanciful me wondered if a suitor frog might be making his way up the hill to find Ms Frog. Silly idea, innit?

Except. About half an hour ago I heard the bass tones of another voice….

Grabbed the torch and went out to look. Sure as frog’s eggs is frog’s eggs, he is here! He just hopped under the driveway gate and is headed for the pond.

They are serenading one another.

That’s a helluva journey, cos she’s the only frog I’ve heard on this hillside in all the time I’ve been here!

I have a lone goldfish and some tilapia in the pond, so the circle of life will get some menu variation over the next few months, but in life how persistence pays.

Cut to this year, and I was wondering if the frogs had gone to the amphibian afterlife. My pond had been dotted with little tadpoles all of last summer but I hadn’t seen any reach maturity. Not a very successful frog breeding program, it would seem.

But nature triumphs, again. Two nights ago, the frog pair started their evening serenade just outside my front door. Voices a little rusty, but they’re still here…and I expect the pond will once more be dotted with pinpricks of black.

“…and what does this thing do?”

Mature CoupleThere I am.

Teaching older people to use their smart gadgets while trying to maintain my coolth. Meanwhile, the wi-fi is farked, and I’m faced with three of Microsoft’s worst operating systems (ok, they’re all bad, but I had to choose a number) on different laptops.

Never mind that there’s an iPad, two Android tablet systems, and a couple of smartphones lurking on the flowered tablecloth.

Four of Jozi’s finest pensioners are about to step onto the treadmill that is the Internet. One of Jozi’s finest unemployed graphic artists is about to see her arse.

“What does this do?”

“Why do I have this red dot with numbers up here?”

“What is Pinterest? How do I get it?”

“I want to do Twitter.”

“But I don’t want to see all these people!”

Somehow, I made it, without seeing my arse. But it was a valuable lesson. To me.

Do Not Try To Teach Four People Everything At Once.
(Yes, I had asked that I be informed beforehand what the requirements were, but that just didn’t happen. Or ‘the internet is the internet, how bad can it be?’)

Maybe it’s because I am a Joziburger™ and I am always ready to sommer “gooi alles”, cos that’s what regular Joziburgers™ do?