The Whiskas Chronicles: – Day of the Ninja
Last week’s gloomy weather on Tenerife didn’t just depress us, it didn’t do much for Whiskas’ mood either. As a confirmed sun worshipper, his behaviour deteriorates when the rain falls. Most of the cats around here live outdoors, Whiskas included; it’s just that he believes, being ‘the special one’ that he should enjoy all the trappings of a domestic cat, whilst retaining the freedom to come and go when he chooses.
The upshot of this is that as soon as the first raindrop lands, he arrives at the front door demanding to get in, irrespective of the time.
So when the rain started in the middle of last Tuesday night, we had the dreaded ‘NIN’ (noise in the night). To be fair, he only did it the once, but it was enough to rouse me from my slumber and in my experience, if the NIN is allowed to go unpunished, we’d be in for a repeat performance the following night and before we knew it Whiskelus would make his evil return.
So next morning, he received the silent treatment for breakfast. No ‘good morning’ or scratch of the chin. His breakfast was served without a word spoken. You may think, ‘so what?’ but he gets depressed if he feels unloved (don’t we all). He got the message and, even though it chucked it down, there was no NIN on Wednesday night.
What it didn’t do though was stop him trying to sneak in to the house to find a cosy spot to curl up for a few hours; at that he is frighteningly good. Even though this is a small house, that cat can go to ground as expertly as an undercover member of the SAS.
One time when I knew he was definitely inside, I searched the house from top to bottom. Could I find him? Not a sign, until I noticed a slight bulge sticking out from beneath the duvet at the side of the bed. I lifted the duvet up and there he was, standing stock still. I swear he was actually hiding.
This time I clocked a white fluffy blur make a run for it through the front door. I finished what I was typing and then went to see what he was up to, but hey presto…he’d disappeared. A tour of the house showed no sign, even under the duvet, so I reckoned he must have become bored and gone back outside…until I heard the faintest bump come from the bathroom, which I’d already checked out. I opened the door and scanned the place, nothing. And then I noticed, well if you look very closely at the pictures, the evidence is all there.
Whiskas was escorted from the premises, not for the first, nor I’m sure the last time in his fluffy white life. Five minutes later Andy found him curled up on our pillow. He was escorted out again. Thankfully, the sun appeared, so he buggered off to find a spot to sunbathe and peace was restored, for the time being. This is after all a foul weather friend.