Queen and Latifa

Seasons’ Greetings to all my friends and blog readers!

As I established on my previous blog (remember, it isn’t family friendly like Q&L), I’m not sending out paper greeting cards for a couple of significant reasons (beyond the fact that I would find writing out cards phenomenally dull!). Without wishing to sound like too much of a save the planet recycling loon, it is clearly better for the environment to send an electronic card rather than chopping down trees to say what can be said on my blog. Beyond this, as always, the money I save by not paying for paper cards is given to a charity. This year, unsurprisingly, I have decided to give a donation to the RSPCA Manchester and Salford branch. So you may not have a pointless card from me that you’ll throw away in January, but you did get goodwill vibes and the satisfaction that some money went to a good cause instead!

Another thing that using this medium allows me is the opportunity to do something silly and ‘internety’. Please do click play on the video below if you fancy a chuckle at silliness, courtesy of Q&L.

So all that is left for me to say is that I hope that you have a relaxing and enjoyable seasonal break, and a prosperous and happy New Year.

Have fun,

Mark & ‘Tifa

x

Welcome to the third Q&L guest post. I'm really pleased about this post because, as an enthusiastic supporter of my local RSPCA branch, I want to be able to do everything that I possibly can to help them out. I can rarely afford to give them actual money, but I can give them my time by doing visits for them, give them spare clothes for their charity shop, and shamelessly plug them on my website!

This is a guest post from Susie Hughes from the Manchester and Salford branch of the RSPCA. I've only known Susie for about 9 months (funnily enough since I adopted 'Tifa), but she is a strong and passionate advocate of animal rights and protection which I respect a lot. Susie is the kind of animal lover that I could never be: she doesn't have favourites and is a vegan. I can't imagine a life without bacon butties, and am unashamedly biased in favour of cats.

So thanks go out to Susie, and if anyone else would like to write a guest post, please get in touch.

Have fun,

M x

*****

When Mark called our office to ask if we had any house cats he wasn't given much choice. With more and more people living in apartments these days the demand for indoor kitties is really high, so there was only one option and that was 'Tifa.

Since this encounter, as you will all know, Mark's life has changed unequivocally, and some might even say for the better. Our lives at RSPCA Mcr & Salford have also been enriched as we now have a wonderful supporter and volunteer in Mark whom we dispatch off on a weekly basis to check out potential homes for our cats - a role that Mark was undoubtedly made for.

However, 'Tifa really is one of the lucky ones as all too commonly this year animals have been discarded like the rubbish and left to fend for themselves. I'll give you some examples - in September I was contacted by our regional press office saying that an animal sanctuary in Liverpool was overrun with abandoned rabbits and were we experiencing the same. I just laughed and said this was the worst year ever for rabbit abandonments - I counted up and 18 out of 22 were as a result of being callously abandoned in boxes, hutches or set loose to fend for themselves. This prompted radio coverage on BBC GMR and reporters coming round to my house to marvel at the number of bunnies bunking down with me (actually, it's more me bunking down with them).

This last week or so has been gut wrenchingly depressing because of the number of cats we have as a result of abandonment, the fact that Christmas is seeing off potential new homes, and the reality of what it means when we turn animals away. Currently we have 33 kitties, with the capacity in our cattery for just 11. And out of 33 a whopping 30 are as a result of owners abandoning their animals. Many have been found as ill or injured strays, the others left in properties where the occupant has done a runner.

Tabs

Tabs is just one of these felines. His owner lived in a swanky apartment in town. He was a foreign student that ran up heaps of debt and when he got into trouble he went running back to China, but left poor Tabs behind without any due care or consideration as to what would happen to him.

Dogs aren't exempt from any of this either. We currently have 4 out of 9 dogs that have befallen the same fate, including Prince, whose owner tied him up outside Asda in Sth Mcr and never returned, and we have Henry and Sasha - 2 of 4 dogs whose owner left them behind when they moved out. Admittedly our dogs have usually come from more neglect and cruelty complaints but it just goes to show that nothing is sacred anymore in these terrible times.

I could go on and on and on, but I won't cos I'm depressing myself, but just to say that if you adopt an animal from the RSPCA you can be sure they will come neutered, vaccinated and microchipped, which generally means you will save a whole heap of money than doing it yourself. For example, to adopt a cat from us the fee is £50 but in reality it costs our branch an average of £290 per animal to 'rehabilitate' them ready for adoption, the adoption fee doesn't go far but it helps us and has to be better than lining the pockets of a 'business'.

So, I will leave you with this thought....pets are not a commodity they a family member; just like children they are vulnerable and dependent upon us to have their needs met; they are characterful bundles of joy that enrich our lives beyond measure. Please don't get an animal on a whim, they are there to be treasured, respected and obeyed, not thrown out with the rubbish when you have tired of their ways.

Susie Hughes

I am prone to whimsy, but this has to be considered one of my most impulsive moments ever...

I am yet to buy any of the presents I need to buy this year. I am aware of this, and the impending sense of dread for the horror of Christmas Eve shopping is an ever closer Sword of Damacles.

So, when I was in Sainsbury's the other day, what in the world possessed me to purchase this:

1. I was there for a 'few essentials', not items of whimsy.
2. Kitty doesn't know what Christmas is.
3. Kitty gets treats every day anyway.
4. Actual people should get priority of Christmas present purchase over kitty.
5. It's November and despite my neuroticism over getting presents bought early, I shoudn't really be worried about buying presents yet.
6. Buying two boxes of treats and a cat toy seperately from the pointless seasonal packaging would have been significantly cheaper.
7. Kitty has many, many toys already, and I have months worth of treat supplies in stock.
8. &c, &c, &c...

I don't even celebrate 'Christmas' in the traditional sense: my staunch faithlessness makes it uncomfortable for me to even call the period from  December to January 'Christmas'. I generally tend to call it 'Yuletide'/ 'Yule' or 'Festive Period'. It seems somewhat hypocritical to me that, as a somewhat passionate non-believer, that I should embrace a religious festival, however much it is ingrained into British culture. I take this period of time as an opportunity to enjoy friends' and family members' company as people (myself included) tend to make more effort around this period to see each other. I swap presents with family, which is lovely, but I certainly don't go wild and buy loads of presents for loads of people. I'm not a humbug by any stretch of the imaginiation, I just completely 'deChristianify' the whole period and minimise present purchase for something that I don't actually believe in. 

Yet, despite all this, I bought the kitty a Christmas present... in November.

I should be mocked.

Have fun,

M x

I have been somewhat perplexed recently as to why it might be that it takes me so long to get ready for a night out these days. It seems that since I adopted 'Tifa, I take nearly twice as long to get ready as I did before and I can't think of any reason why. So I've decided to come up with two lists detailing what I did to get ready before 'Tifa and what I do now to see if this can shed any light. So, here goes...

Before Kitty

• Shower
• Brush teeth
• Shave face
• Shave head
• Trim chest hair
• Cut nails
• Pick outfit
• Aftershave
• Pose in front of mirror

Since Acquisition Of Kitty

• Shower
• Fuss over kitty
• Brush teeth
• Stroke kitty
• Shave face
• Give kitty some cat treats
• Shave head
• Hug kitty
• Trim chest hair
• Blow kisses to the kitty
• Cut nails
• Check kitty's water bowl is full
• Pick outfit
• Play with the kitty using the dangley toy thing
• Aftershave
• Get all soppy over the kitty as I'm about to leave her
• Pose in front of mirror
• Fret about being late and wonder how it happened then rush out usually forgetting either my phone, brolley, glasses, MP3 player or something else important

Nope - I still can't put my finger on it. Perhaps I'll just have to chalk it down to it just being one of life's mysteries...

Have fun,

M x

I went to a conference last weekend, and left 'Tifa alone in the flat for the longest period of time that I ever have. I felt so incredibly guilty leaving her on Friday morning knowing that she'd have no contact with anyone for two nights.

I spoil my girl anyway, but leaving her on the Friday evening, I left her her favourite cat food, some cat milk, and a mixed bowl of all the flavours of Dreamies that you can get. She also got more dry food than she could possibly manage to eat in two days, and four bowls of water in various parts of the flat. Food wise; she was definitely going to be fine.

I explained that this was the longest that she'd ever be alone and confessed how incredibly worried I was to my friend who was coming to the conference with me, and he'd suggested that I text her to check she was okay. I scowled.

So there I was in Cardiff in my swanky four star hotel with a king size bed and a snazzy bathroom that puts the one in my flat to shame. I went to bed, and thankfully (probably due to the 5 pints I'd drunk) got to sleep relatively easily. However, much to my chagrin, I woke up at yuck o'clock and there was no kitty sleeping on me. This reminded me of where I was and that 'Tifa was alone. And, of course, I started fretting. That's an hour of time I'll not be able to claim back unlike the cost of food for the weekend. This happened both nights.

If you're wondering if there's actually a point to this blog, there is - I'm getting there. Normally, if I'm away for over a day, I'll ask friends to feed (and fuss over) the diva kitty, and I'm sure that I could have got the lovely Ryoko and Phil to look after 'Tifa. However, everyone I know that could look after 'Tifa while I'm away for Christmas at my parents will be away at that time too. As such, this weekend was a trial run to see how she copes with being left alone for two days.

She was fine when I got home, of course. And I've rarely felt as relieved as I did when I found that out.

I'm already dreading Christmas: I fear that my neurotic nature will ruin my Christmas as I worry about the diva kitty being okay rather than enjoying it. Bah!

Have fun,

M x

Welcome to the second guest post on Q&L. I am chuffed to bits that my friends are prepared to write something for my camp kitty blog. Afterall, Q&L, however much my readers might love it too, is an incredibly indulgent blog by a particularly silly and queeny thirty something who is unhealthily obsessed with his somewhat contrary cat. So I truly am humbled that people want their work to be posted up here despite the blog’s frivolity.

This guest post is by my friend Joey Abad. Joey is another chap that I have known for donkey’s years through roleplaying games. If I had to describe Joey in few words, I’d simply say ‘an all round good egg’. His dry Northern humour has me in stitches over the headset on World of Warcraft, and his genuine decency is something I deeply admire. Joey is one of the most honest, down to earth blokes that I have met in my life: I like to think that I call a spade a spade, but Joey would go as far as calling it a s**t shovel.

Yes, I did just swear. And yes, I know that this is supposed to be a family friendly blog (hence the asterisks). Joey’s blog, Random Rants –an unashamed ranty blog about the flaws of modern British life, does not share my policy on not using swearwords, and neither does his guest post for Q&L. Please take note this before continuing onto Joey’s post.

Have fun,

M x

*****

It is understandable how so many pet owners are proud of their pets, especially those that keep dogs. Dogs are highly intelligent and can be trained to do many tasks ranging from fetching a ball, sniffing out drugs, guiding the blind to even waking deaf people up in the event of a fire.

It is not surprising then that canines are called affectionately mans best friend, my dog on other hand at first glance is a complete and utter little shit head. Gosh, am I not supposed to be an animal lover? I still love him, I love him to bits, but the fact remains that he is a little shit.

He will gladly play fetch, and if I have food in my hand he will sit and stay for hours. He knows when it is my 5 year old sons bed time, as soon as it gets to 7:30pm, Bernie my Lakeland Terrier runs up to my son, and begins to bark at him to go up to bed. He is far from stupid.

If he wants to go out he will jump up at me, paw my legs and if any of that fails will gently pull on my fingers with his teeth until I get up off my arse. It would be easy for many people who don’t know my dog to think of him as stupid, because he does have a mind of his own and knows what he wants and when he wants it, he is far from obedient unless food is involved.

Many people consider themselves to be the masters of their pets without even giving the matter a second thought but as far as I am concerned anybody thinking this should spend an evening alone with their pet without any distractions like TV or music.

Watch your pet be it a cat or dog and consider what it is thinking and what it is going to do, you will be amazed at how they can manipulate you into doing what they want. We feed, groom, stroke, walk and play with our pets without even considering that our pets told us to do it by either rubbing themselves against us, barking, meowing and begging etc at us.

They are the masters, next time you tell you dog to sit and then pat him on the head ask yourself why he did that, was it to sit down or because he was expecting the pat on the head or the treat?

Joey Abad

This is the first of what I hope will be a series of successful guest posts. I'd like to thank my friend Steve Tierney for having the bravery to write the first!

Steve is a friend that I have known for about 15 years through roleplaying (D&D, etc). He is the County Councillor for the Roman Bank & Peckover Division of North-East Cambridgeshire, and writes what he describes as 'a Fenland blog with a Conservative flourish': Getting The message Out. Whatever your political persuasion (and I'm not going to ever state mine on this blog), Steve's blog is an enjoyable read as said 'flourish' makes it a lot more than 'just a Conservative's blog' which has been recognised by him receiving a number of awards.

So I hope you enjoy the first guest post, and if you'd like to write one, get in touch!

Have fun,

M x

*****

One of the wonderful things about humans is that we are able to rise above the animalistic nature of our origins and care about other living things.

My dogs Toblerone, Suzy and Bumble do not care about the hedgehogs they regularly find (and tear apart) in the garden. But I'm furious with them and horrified by what they've done, which is pressed brutally home while I am forced to clean up the aftermath of their grisly game.

My cat Flash, now long gone, had no pity for the baby sparrow he trapped and batted around the garden, but he made himself scarce when I came rushing along to save the little bird from his heartless ministrations.

When a fox gets into a chicken coop and utterly destroys all the birds therein, he does not do it because he is hungry and plans to eat them all, but just because he can and because there is no reason not to. The fox cannot feel empathy for its prey and so it massacres without remorse and with reckless abandon.

In truth it is we, the humans, which are the odd man out. Evolution (or God, if you prefer and are so inclined), has equipped us with language, reason, imagination, creativity - and empathy.

Those humans who do not possess these traits are the ones which go on to try and exterminate people who they dislike, disagree with or just want out of the way. Men and woman who lack empathy are the monsters who would drag us back to the level of other animals - pursuing only what is best for themselves and without care for other people and living things.

Without wanting to get too philosophical, we are the dominant animal on the planet by quite some stretch. Therefore, you might argue that these unusual traits which make us so special and part-and-parcel with why we are so successful.

Consequently, when Mark types on Facebook that he needs to "stop being such a queen" because he is upset about his unwell cat, or when he writes with such heartfelt concern about the object of his love and affection I would caution him on being self-critical. Your capacity to care represents a fundamental empathy. It is a great strength, not a weakness.

Steve Tierney

If you're after one of my usual light-hearted blogs, perhaps you should give this one a miss. I have no intention of making a habit of posting maudlin entries, but even Q&L can have a rough day...

I took 'Tifa to the vet today for her yearly jabs and general check up, and since her last check up in 2008, she's developed a heart murmur. It's not a serious one, and the vet didn't recommend any treatment or changing anything for her at all. He didn't even think that I need to take her to the vet more regularly than the current once a year. But she still has a heart murmur which, to me, means that, despite outward appearance, she's now frail.

The best thing to happen to me all year, actually probably the best decision I ever made in my life: my beautiful girl, has a heart murmur.

I nearly hit other cars on the way home because I was crying behind the wheel. I couldn't concentrate at work in the afternoon because I was so choked up. I'm currently sat alone at home wallowing in self-pity and only just managing to stop myself from reaching for the vodka.

The vet has said it's nothing to worry about. My friends with cats have said it's nothing to worry about. The manager I know from the RSPCA has said it's nothing to worry about. I'm not very good at not worrying. The deep, bitter irony of it all is that the one man that I ever truly loved had a heart condition too, and this has sent me into a spiral of worry and sadness and remorse and regret and nostalgia for the relationship that I had with him too.

I've been told that cats can live for years with a heart murmur, especially a weak murmur like 'Tifa's. I've been told that she may not even have one and it may be misdiagnosed because she was stressed out from being taken away from the flat. And these things will eventually help me to live with the knowledge. But not yet.

I love that bloody cat so very much, and I feel like she's been handed a death sentence.

Perhaps tomorrow I'll realise that this gut-wrenching horror that is actually making me feel physically unwell is merely the melodrama over a queen prone to overreaction. But not today. And if I know myself, I'll bounce back relatively quickly. After all, the crazy diva is still exactly the same cat as she was yesterday when I was living in blissful ignorance and she's obviously fine. She just played with a cat toy and darted off. She meowed and got all giddy over cat treats a few hours ago. She got all curious about the strap on my shoulder bag and pawed at it before that. She's being 'Tifa. She's clearly not bothered by the murmur, so why should I be?

She's fine.

I will be again soon too.

Sorry to post something like this, but it's helped me a little so I hope you don't mind too much. Normal service will resume soon, I promise.

M x

I may not always agree with his politics, but Steve Tierney is a friend and I enjoy reading his lively blog. He is a fellow geek and Conservative Councillor. The focus of his blog is politics, but he also indulges in other topics (such as geekery). He is also a particularly brave chap inasmuch as he asked a Liberal Democrat to write a guest post on his Conservative blog. I thought that this was admirable, and an interesting concept. Guests posts are an interesting idea at the best of times, but guest posts from someone that isn't obvious is a great idea. 

This got me thinking, I'd like the occassional guest poster too - both obvious choices and more unusual choices like the Liberal Democrat on Steve's blog. Perhaps someone who is a 'dog person'? Or a self-confessed cat hater? Maybe someone who works with cats or other animals?

Any guest post would have to be loosely linked (and it can be very loose) to either kitties or gayness, but if you're up for it, why not get in touch? Please contact me with your concept for a guest post if you're interested.  

Cheers,

M x

There's an old cliché that pets start to resemble their owners...

I am blessed with a metabolism that means that whatever I eat, I don't get fat. I can be incredibly unfit (and I currently am, unfortunately), but I never get a tum or weigh much more than 11 stone. I've been warned that it'll catch up with me, and I'm sure it will, but 31 years and counting, it hasn't yet. If I did put on weight, my opinion would probably be different to what I'm about to express, but I don't see the point of a culinary indulgence if you're going to debase it! As such, I always have full fat cheeses/ spreads, fizzy drinks, chocolate products, etc. As far as I'm concerned, it's not an indulgence if you actually think about the bad stuff: that ruins the pleasure one gains from the indulgence.

The reason for the title of this blog is that I often say something that borders on a catchphrase when challenged about my fizzy drink choices: "I don't do diet." This is in reference to the fact that I'd rather have a glass of water over a glass of Diet Coke. If I'm going to have Coca-Cola, I want Coca-Cola, not wishy washy, flavourless, gassy Diet.

Turns out that the diva kitty has a very similar attitude. She loves cow milk, and if I ever leave a glass of milk unattended, she's there like a shot lapping it up. But as we know, cow milk is bad for kitty cats and she really shouldn't be drinking it, but special cat milk is okay. As such, being the doting queen that I am, I generally have a stock of cat milk in to give to my princess. The thing is, if I put down a bowl of cat milk, she treats it with disdain! She'll play at it and, more often than not, will eventually drink it over a day, but she has nothing resembling the gusto for cat milk that she does for cow milk.

So there you go, like her queeny owner/ housekeeper, the diva don't do diet!

M x