Qwerty’s Fan Club

Yippee! I have my own Facebook Page. If you like seeing my daily adventures, come and join my fanclub. You can tick the box in the right hand menu or you can visit me here on Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/QwertysFanClub.

See you there,

Q.

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Shove off, this is my lounge!

Tonight I discovered a fleecy blanket on the lounge and made myself very comfy. Trouble is, Lou usually sits on the lounge and he thinks he owns it.

It didn’t take him long to work out that I was onto a good thing. I thought he’d see me having a sleep, and choose somewhere else to snooze, instead he thought he’d chance it. Maybe he thought I wouldn’t wake up.

so I was enjoying my cat nap when he decided to join me. I opened my eyes and gave him the Qwerty death stare. It usually works and he slinks off and scratches the door for mum to let him out so he can go back where he came from.

 

Today the death stare had no effect at all. He figured it was his lounge and if he had to share…well he had to share. And I guess I had to share to.

 

Shh, please don’t tell anyone I sleep with a dog. I have a reputation to uphold.

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To sleep, perchance to dream…

One of the best things about being a cat is that you can nod off almost anywhere you like.  Even better when you’re  a kitten because you can squeeze into the most unlikely of places, and go to sleep, blissfully unaware that the household is frantically calling your name.

Here are some of my favourite spots:

I discovered mum’s laptop the day I moved in. Warm with ridges that give a massage when you roll around.  Sometimes it makes odd noises but not enough to disturb my sleep.  It seems to be mum’s centre of the universe and by sleeping on it, I quickly let her know that I’m the centre of her universe.  I still sleep on it every couple of days, especially when I want mum’s attention, but it does seem to be getting smaller.  Maybe she needs to upgrade to a ‘queen-sized’ laptop. I think this one is a single.

Big comfy chair, with a built in, giant sunflower. What more could a nature loving, sleepy kitten want?

Snuggling up to mum is always nice, though hard for her to take a photo.

Mum tried to trick me by offering me another laptop, but it wasn’t as warm as the other one. I tolerated it for a little and then moved to the warm one.

This bed is nice and cosy too and I think will come in handy as it gets colder. I went off it for a little while, but then I saw Lou the dog curled up in it. Well, that’s NOT on. So now, when he’s around, I make sure I get in it before he has the chance.

Sleeping in mum’s handbag is a strategy to ensure she doesn’t leave the house without me. It worked that night – she stayed home. Bags are very comfortable to sleep in. I also curl up in her gym bag, shopping bags and the occasional shoe box.

Mum has a nice big bed and I get a whole side to myself with a pillow. Sometimes I crawl under the blankets and snuggle up to her, or sometimes I just sit on her chest while she sleeps. But more often than not, I’ll just sleep on the pillow next to her. Now it’s getting colder, she’s put a special blankie on my side.  I could stay here all day with mum, unless my tummy is rumbling.

I love mum’s jeans and if she puts them on the lounge, then what’s a kitty to do? Or I curl up in them on the bathroom floor, while she’s having a shower.

The throw rug is very comfy and I think our colours go really well together. In this photo I was zonked.

I love it when mum comes home from work and stretches out on the lounge to watch TV. Then I snuggle up on her legs and go to sleep. It never lasts long enough though. She’s always got to get up and do something.

I like sleeping on the clothes horse as well, especially when it’s loaded up with washing. I have to hang on tightly when there’s no washing or I fall between the bars.

There are many more places I sleep which mum hasn’t got a picture of, or hasn’t caught me sleeping in yet. Hey, a cat’s got to have some secrets! But it’s good to have so many sleeping options.

Must go! I’ve got some cat-napping to do.

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Climbing Mt. Treetop

Firstly, I must apologise for not catablogging more often. When I hired my personal assistant, she didn’t disclose that she had a full-time job, also volunteered for Romance Writers of Australia, and did this silly little form once a month for the tax office. I thought she was going to be my personal slave 24/7. Instead, she locks me in the house during the day while she goes to the evil day job, and I gaze whistfully out the window, looking at all the stuff I could be doing.  So just to mess with her mind, I rearrange things while she’s out.  Move her jewellery around, pull her shoes out of the bedroom, even managed to wrap her velvet bag around my water bowl one day.  I’d move the furniture if I could just to really mess her around, but it’s too heavy.

I’ve tried to learn to type but the keys are just too small for my paws, so I have to wait until SHE has the time (and she’s always protesting that she doesn’t have the time, but I’ve seen her fart-arsing about on Fartbook) before my very intelligent thoughts can be transcribed to the blog for your edification.

As I said, I get a bit crazy during the week locked inside all day. My jail is specifically torturous. It has these huge windows on both sides, so I can see exactly what I’m missing out on, and the weather has been so beautiful lately.  But I do get reprieve on the weekends, when she puts me in my embarrassing baby-pink harness attached to the washing basket and lets me outside.

I haven’t been letting on too much that I know how to get that darn thing off.  The couple of occasions that I’ve demonstrated it, I’ve made it seem like an accident or just a consqeuence of sheer brute force or panic. It’s quite easy to run out of it when the dog next door decides to run over here and harass me.

So last weekend, she was complacent and she went inside while I was tethered to the washing basket again. Once I heard the water pump going, I knew I had some time to make my escape.

When she came back out, all dressed for the day, the washing basket and the limp harness was sitting on the ground, and I was nowhere in sight. She started calling me, and walking around the yard, looking under the ferns. She didn’t think to look up. I was in the tree, looking down, watching the fun. She disappeared for a while – I think she’d gone out the back to look for me, and I could hear her talking to the landlady about me. Hehe, looked like I’d be up here for a while. I’d always admired this particular tree,  and she’d never let me climb it. I was up to the challenge.

She came out to the front of the house again and then she looked up and spotted me. Perhaps I’d inadvertenly given my position away by meowing just a little. I’ve got used to answering her when she calls out ‘Qwerty’. So then she’s calling me, trying to persuade me to come down.  Are you kidding? I’ve got this far…and there’s lots more tree to climb. It looks like it might be The Magic Faraway Tree, the one I read about in one of her books. Mmm, I wonder where that branch goes.  So she kept calling, and I kept climbing…and climbing and climbing and climbing.

I climbed right up past the balcony of the house, where Val was, up, up, up, high above the roof. Damn, I’d miscalculated. I thought I could jump from the tree to the roof, but once I’d got up there I realised it was too far away.  Too far to jump. Then I heard mum calling again. I looked down. She was so far down, she looked tiny, and I realised just how high I was. For cat’s sake. How am I going to get back down there? I started meowing back to mum, freaking out, telling her to come and get me.

Mum was telling me I’d got up there so I just had to work out how to get myself back down, but it seemed so much easier going up.  Did she see the  gradient on those branches. One claw out of place and I’d be turning into Flat Cat. But then Val back went inside, and indeed it seemed the only way I was going to get back down to the ground was to make my own way down there. I didn’t hear any fire engine sirens or any indication that she’d called emergency services to rescue me. She kept saying I could do it and to come down slowly, so I figured if I wriggled around on this top branch any longer, I could lose my grip and I’d rather go down slow than fast. Very carefully I edged my way down the branch while mum encouraged me.

My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it and hear it. When I was halfway down the tree, I paused and took a rest, and looked back to see  how far I’d come. I was relieved to be sitting on this branch where the ground and my mum were a lot closer.

Mum kept talking to me, and finally I made my way down to the fork of the tree where Mum was waiting. I was very proud that I’d managed to climb Mt Treetop by myself, and even more proud that I’d got back to the bottom again.

And mum was just as happy that I’d made it down and gave me a big cuddle.

Later that afternoon, she brought me outside again tethered to the washing basket, while she got the washing off the line. When she had her back turned, I dragged the washing basket over to the tree and started climbing. She laughed when she saw me in the fork of the tree, with the washing basket dangling behind me and grabbed me before I could climb any further. Strangely enough, it’s noon now, and she still hasn’t let me outside. Guess she knows what I’m capable of now. No washing basket is going to stop me!

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My holiday at Carlyn Park Cattery

I was apprehensive when Mum lured me into the cage two weeks ago and piled me into the car. I like exploring the car when it’s switched off but I don’t like being in the cage thing in a moving car making strange car noises. You see, you never know where you’re going to end up — sometimes you could end up at the hospital where they stick needles in you ans so other unmentionable things — some I still haven’t retained my dignity from.

This time Mum drove for a long time. After about 20 minutes, I realised that yarking wasn’t going to make the car stop so I settled down and resigned myself to my fate.

Finally we stopped and she carried my cage out of the car, told me we were at Carlyn Park Cattery and introduced me to a lady named Heather.

Carlyn Park? Now I’m pretty sure from the research I’ve been doing on the net that a lot of mental asylums end with ‘Park’. So I was quickly sussing the place out for padded walls, straightjackets, little tablets that they say are good for you (as if!), and more needles.

Heather showed us to my holiday room. Well I never! It had hot pink curtains  like they thought I was some kind of prissy girly cat. I was already suffering the indignity of having some of my private parts removed the week before, and they expected me to sleep in Barbie’s bedroom. It would have been half okay if it had’ve come with Barbie’s convertible but there were no signs of fun transport in sight. However, the room did have cool features. A huge scratching post as big as a tree, a chair with a (hot pink!) cushion, a very comfy bed, and a ramp that led up to an upstairs area with a window view.

OMG! It's pink!

Then I met my neighbour Mog. He growled at me through the wire, but I knew eventually he’d come around and we’d be the best of mates. If I can charm Lou the dog, I can charm anyone.

Meeting my new neighbour, Mog

Then Mum left. I was a little sad to see her go but I had so much new stuff to explore and new cats to meet that I was quickly distracted.

Mum was gone for 10 days and I had the best holiday a cat could ever want.

Heather sensed my indignation and changed the curtains and cushions is my room from Barbie pink to yellow, and Mog and I became best mates. With adjoining rooms, it was very easy to drop in for cat chat. Then we would tear down the corridor together and outside to the enclosed (drats!) but fabulous play area.

Me and Mog

I tested my agility and circus skills by leaping from the trees to the hanging baskets, where I could swing in the sunshine. I amazed all the other cats and Heather with my prowess – she said I’m the first kitty to do that. I even demonstrated my party trick for Mum when she came to pick me up.

When I wasn’t surveying my domain from high up in the tree or the basket, I would play chasies with Mog and Peanut, and have a wrestle on the lawn. I loved playing with Peanut because he was a bit smaller than me.

Playing with Peanut

When I needed a bit of a cat nap to recharge my energy, I chilled out on the table or chair.

Well, Mum thought I might forget about her laptop while I was on holidays but it turns out that Heather has a laptop too, and I had to show her how I got my name. We took turns sitting on Heather’s keyboard. What more could I ask for? Playmates, trees to climb and a laptop. Kitty paradise!

Busted on Heather's keyboard

Heather emailed some photos of me and my new friends to Mum so she wouldn’t fret. Mum said it was like getting a postcard from me, though I didn’t say ‘wish you were here’ because I knew Mum wouldn’t like sleeping on the floor of my new hotel room, because she wouldn’t fit in the bed.

I spent some time in the lounge room watching TV and playing in the cat tunnel.  It was almost like home. But instead of Mum for company, I had feline friends. Chasing someone else’s tail is always more fun than chasing your own.

Planning our escape from AlCATraz. Alas, digging with spoons didn't work.

And just when I thought I was going to stay at Carlyn Park forever, Mum turned up. On noes! I didn’t want to leave so I ran down the corridor to show her the play area. I introduced her to Mog and Peanut and the one-eyed tom. I showed her how good I am at climbing trees (maybe she’ll let me climb those really tall trees at home) and I ran around like a crazy cat.

Then it was time to say goodbye to Mog and Peanut, say goodbye to Heather and go home.

I enjoyed my holiday and Mum says she’s already made another booking for August. Something to look forward to. But as Dorothy says ‘there’s no place like home’ but Carlyn Park Cattery is my home away from home.

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My laptop is shrinking

Something’s going on around here. My beautiful laptop bed seems to be shrinking. And I’ve got photographic evidence.

 

This was taken on the 8th January when I’d first discovered my warm, cosy bed:

 

 

And mum took another photo a few days later:

 

 

But it’s definitely shrinking. Mum took this picture last night:

It’s very strange. Everything around me seems to be shrinking. Even this shoebox, which I used to fit in quite easily.

Does that mean I’m no longer a size 8?

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Big bouncy fun

It’s been raining and raining and raining for days. Mum won’t let me go outside to play in the rain, so I have to make my own fun. She was surprised when I first jumped on the clothes thingamajig and didn’t fall off. I haven’t told her I’ve been practicing my acrobatic skills by watching videos on youtube while she’s out at work. Not telling her much about what I get up to while she’s at work – that would spoil all my fun.

So she’s uploaded my first video to youtube. Do you think I might become a youtube star?

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Salutations

Hello everyone.  Welcome to my brand new catablog.

I’ve been living in my new house for a week now, and it didn’t take me long to work out that my new mum is very attached to this keyboard thingamajig. So I thought I’d try it out.

It’s very warm and cosy, and it makes lots of funny noises. A bit like me, really.

 

After that, I thought it was time to check out our bookshelves – after all you can tell a lot about someone by the books they keep.

It seems there’s a portal at the back of the bookshelf. Bet mum didn’t know about that.

But I’ll leave exploring the portal until mum’s at work, and make sure I’m back by dinner so she doesn’t get worried.  Seriously, she’s got Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy on the shelf, and she’s worried about me slipping through a portal?

I’m happy to find myself in such a literary household and mum tells me she’s a writer, but I don’t see her write much. Yes, she gets on that keyboard and taps away – when I give her access – but that’s not writing, is it?  I thought writing was when you used a pen and paper and I’m looking forward to when she writes, because I’m going to chase the pen across the page.

So when she picked me up, they told her they’d been calling me ‘baby’. They didn’t want to give me a real name because they might get too attached and want to keep me.  My new mum didn’t name me straight way either, which had me worried for a little bit – didn’t she want to keep me either? But then she started trying out different names with me?

I liked Qwerty – it’s unique and I don’t suspect I’ll meet another cat with that name, so I started coming when she called out Qwerty. She seemed quite happy with my reaction. I felt very important when she also added Lord Byron to the name.

Lord Qwerty Byron.  Yes – it sounds much better than Dorkus.  Can you believe that was the name of her last cat? Poor thing. I bet he was always trying to rise above that silly name. But Dorkus had his own catablog.It was called Diary of a Mad Cat. I know why he was mad. I’d be mad too with a moniker like that.

And now Lord Qwerty Byron has his own catablog too.

Now it’s time to play Words with Cats.

See you on the catawebs.

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