Queen and Latifa

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

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

It's not quite the epic battle that was the cinematic event of Mega Shark V Giant Octopus (magnificently schlocky and hilariously bad pure entertainment by the way), but there is a battle going on in the Q&L household!

The diva kitty does not use her basket. Seriously, even after a liberal spraying of catnip, she's not even remotely interested in the basket. She likes to sleep on the sofa or on me when I'm asleep in bed. She likes to sit behind the telly or on the computer chair. No basket interest whatsoever.

But surely every cat needs a basket?

So here's the thing: I horde. I have lots of stuff and refuse to throw stuff away. Despite the generous proportions of my 60s council flat in comparison to the majority of modern flats, and due to my incredible amounts of stuff, space is at a premium in chez Q&L. My bedroom is horribly cluttered, and one of the main culprits of clutterage is the exercise bike that I don't use because it's under a pile of things that I haven't been bothered to put on ebay (that and I'm incredibly lazy). It would make a significant differance if I were to move the exercise bike out of the bedroom, and I might even used the blooming thing if it guilts me every time I go into my living room.

But is it mean to replace the cat's basket with an exercise bike? Am I a bad person for even contemplating this?

M x

Okay, here's the thing, for the first time in quite a while I've met a bloke that I like that actually seemingly likes me. It's early days, but he seems like a pretty decent guy, and I fancy him, and want to get to know him better.

I haven't told him about this blog yet.

He's aware that I have a cat, and is aware that she is called Latifa. I've even cracked the lame "I'm the queen; she's Latifa!" joke and he pretended that it was funny. He's not anti-cat per se, but he's not schoolgirl squealy squishy about them like I am.

So here's the problem: when do I tell him about this blog? I'm perfectly aware that it is eccentric to the extreme and can make some people raise a critical eyebrow. He knows I play World of Warcraft, listen to metal music, watch WWE wrestling, go to the speedway, and various other unusual interests, yet I've not told him about the blog. And the main reason is that the last guy I told about it (and gave the website address) went off me in a hurry. I have no idea if this was because I thought I was a nutter for writing a kitty blog, or for another reason, but the doubt is there.

I aint going anywhere. I enjoy writing this blog almost as much as I enjoy spending time with the diva kitty. No man could make me stop writing Q&L, but I do fear that Q&L might stop me dating certain men. But I guess that if a guy can't accept me for the peculiar, eccentric, neurotic, blogger queen that I, he's not the one for me, right?

M x

Since I got back from my holiday, 'Tifa has been meowing a lot.

Seriously: lots and lots and lots.

She's always been a somewhat chatty girl, but lately she's been extra receptive and needy for to cuddles and extremely vocal. She meows at me all the time. Seriously, it's a constant meow fest! It's hella cute, but the paranoid part of me thinks that maybe she's still traumatised from me not being around for a week and is begging me not to abandon her ever again. Surely the diva kitty isn't that needy and attached is she? After all, she's the diva kitty and has shown me much disdain for my affection in the past.

But she's meowing lots. In fact, she's meowing now.

I'm never going on holiday ever again!

M x

This cute kitty is my friend Alex's cat called Zaney:

Now, we won't be renaming this blog 'Queen and Zaney' any time soon, but I did feel like I'd 'cheated' on 'Tifa the other day!

Let me explain...

When I wake up in the morning, almost without exception 'Tifa will have settled herself either in my lap, on my feet, or nuzzled up to my leg. It's lovely to wake up next to my princess, and to get early morning cuddles while I struggle into consciousness.

So while I was in London, it wasn't so much the strange bed(s) that I was sleeping in that bothered me, but the fact that there was no diva kitty there when I woke up. I really missed having my kitty there when I woke up. All except for Thursday where, yes - you've guessed it, I was staying at Alex's and I awoke with Zaney in my lap. Now, as much as I adore Zaney, she is not the diva kitty and as such, I couldn't help feeling guilty: like I'd cheated on my princess.

All was fine Monday morning though, I awoke with 'Tifa on my lap and she was particularly affectionate. So I reckon I got away with it!

M x

Sorry about the recent hiatus on this blog!

As I mentioned in a recent(ish) entry, I've been on holiday for the last week having been at Manchester Pride all the bank holiday, and then straight onto London for the following week. I had lots and lots of fun, but as I feared in the aforementioned previous blog, I did worry terribly about my princess while I was in London. Thankfully, Ryoko and Phil (my mates that were looking after her) reassured me throughout the week via phone calls, and she was fine when I got home.

Oh, how I pampered her when I got home! She got cuddles and treats and fuss and cat milk and more cuddles and cat toy action and kisses and more treats!

One thing that I thought I'd share with you that happened while I was packing my case last week was this:

Don't leave me!

While I was packing, the diva kitty jumping into my case did nothing to ease my guilt about abandoning her for a week! She looked at me with her big green kitty eyes and I felt like such a meanie! Mind you, I still went, so I'm not quite as under the thumb as some people might suggest!

M x

I am going to London on holiday next week, and I am already starting to fret about my girl while I'm away.

There is literally nothing to worry about. My very capable friends Ryoko and Phil (who are cat owners themselves - I look after their cat while they're away) are kindly looking after my diva kitty while I'm away - feeding her, watering her, giving her cuddles, checking she's okay, etc. Yet I am already getting into a tissy about it all.

I know it's neurotic, but I can't help it. I genuinely get warm, happy feelings by being with 'Tifa every day, and I will miss her terribly while I'm away. She knows me, and she gets all giddy when I arrive home which suggests reciprocated feelings. Will she miss me as much as I'll miss her? I don't want my princess to be upset because her selfish queen of an owner is off on his jollies! I've been told that she probably won't be bothered as long as she's got fresh food and water every day. However, this is by people who refer to her as 'it' not 'she',and say horrid things like 'it's only an animal'. But she's not just any old animal: she's my princess with whom I have a real bond of trust and love (okay, maybe she just trusts me and my love isn't actually reciprocated, but even so!).

Also, I'm already panicking about what to do about ensuring she's looked after and happy over Christmas when I go down to Wolverhampton to see my folks.

Then, I take a step back, take a deep breathe, and I sometimes wonder if I'm the most neurotic person in the entire world?

M x

I decided on three things that I would get when I hit 30.

1. A pension.
2. A tattoo.
3. A cat.

I have just over a month before I am 31, and so far, I have only got one of the three. Considering what this blog is, I think it's probably obvious which one I've got!

I will speak to the pension people the day before my birthday. I have to. I need a pension, however much it means changing my lifestle with 7% less disposable income a month. That is going to suck.

As for the tattoo. Maybe I won't bother. What do people think?

M x