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Household Hazard Number 32. The One Cat Disaster Zone. 9, June 2008

Posted by babychaos in Adult Content, Art, General Wittering, Life and living, Play, Small Scale Disasters.
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So I had a lovely day today, the weather was fine and sunny and I spent the morning having coffee with a friend round the corner and I sat out for the afternoon finishing some painting I have to do. All is going swimmingly, just finishing the last of the figure backgrounds and have mixed the colour for the lettering when the Kraken – who has spent the afternoon sleeping peacefully on top of one of my plants – wakes.

Yes, Mr Cat wants on to the table. There is no room. It containing a tray full of mixed inks, a piece of paper with various squiggles and further ink mixes, the paint water, brush and rag (kitchen roll) for wiping the brushes and of course, not forgetting the actual painting. I push him off and he goes back to sitting on the chair… for a few minutes, until he sees I am once again immersed in what I am doing.

He strikes, leaping onto the table and then standing on his hind legs and shaking to settle his fur. The table shakes with him, alarmingly but by some miracle nothing spills from the ink palette or drips off the paper and the paint water pot remains upright.

I remove the painting to safety and the paper with the paint squiggles… well… he puts his front foot in a soggy patch of watered down red and stretches but it’s not too bad, I manage to remove it before he steps into anything too concentrated. I get the water container, complete with brush oh yes and not forgetting my tea out of the way…

He is between me and the inks but he is not interested in retreating to that end of the table. He wants love and as my flailing hands remove soggy paint spattered things from his reach he tries to headbutt them, to get my attention… and get himself tickled behind the ears. I tell him he is a spanner and he suddenly realises I am laughing but at the same time, a little put upon. He backs away sitting down in the yellow ink. It’s all over his bum… this is a long haired cat, remember, with back trousers like one of those bizarre fluffy chickens.


I get the ink tray out of his way – that’s the try full of permanent, light fast inks – and try to wipe the bright yellow – oh look with some green, too – off his copious furry rear pantaloons. There is too much ink on the cloth for it to be much good but it works a little until he decides to sit down on the table. Now there is yellow and green ink all over the table, the cat and the only thing I have to hand to wipe it up.


I pour water on it to keep it wet in the hope I can wash it out. Nothing doing. I must go into the house to get more kitchen roll. Mr Cat leaps onto the chair – his hairy rear trousers acting like a giant paint brush – and covers that with yellow ink, too.

Mr Cat sees that the human is going into the house. Good. He will go with her and then she will stroke him while he eats his food.

No. She will not let him in. Not until she’s got the sodding yellow off the chair anyway – well… ok that’s only a partial success but it’s pretty well camouflaged and I can probably convince Mr BC it’s bird muck.

Mr Cat lurks by the door. I still refuse to let him in. Except I can’t stop him because he’s a bit quick like that whereas, conversely, I am currently built like a weeble and manoeuver with the grace, poise and cornering capability of the average oil tanker. So instead I corner him, hold him down and wipe the rest of the yellow off him. It’s dry now, anyway. He’s going to have to live with a yellow and green arse until it wears or moults off – whichever comes first.

Meanwhile back to the table. The nice wooden naturally weathered outdoor table. That’s yellow and green, too.

And dry.

Oh dear.

Mr BC is not going to like this. Never mind. At least I didn’t get any on the name painting and considering the determined onslaught of Mr Cat I did pretty well to disguise the fate of the chair and escape with merely the table daubed with ink.


Exit BC stage left to find some sandpaper.