Mauser
Let joy be unconfined!
After fifteen months it has finally happened.
I got up this morning and as usual the dog was out the door first. I caught up with her in the front room where she was standing, sniffing at something on the floor. I had a look to see what was so interesting and there was a wee mess on the carpet. It was sort of a regurgitated mess of red, white and grey so my pathologist’s expertise came into play and I ascertained that this was indeed the masticated remains of something that had once in the not so distant past been alive. I diagnosed it as the remains of a mouse mainly due to there being a long tail at one end of it.
This could only be the mortal remains of Marathon who has been pissing me off for so long. What’s more, the architect of his demise had to be Cat. He/She/It had finally, after all this time earned his/her/its spurs and was now a fully functional member of the family. About fucking time!
I have decided to honour Cat by giving him/her/it a proper name. I know he/she/it was named Malone but for the life of me I cannot bring myself to constantly shout “fuck off Malone” so up until now it has been “fuck off Cat” which trips off the tongue that little bit better. The name should reflect the status and honour of our furry little killing machine.
I have started calling him/her/it Mauser.
I think that’s appropriate enough?
That is a “Broomhandle Mauser “
Appropriate enough. I have used the brush on a few occasions.
‘Javelin’ might also be appropriate. (The Major-General’s song)
Our cat is a stray kitten that attached itself to us, usually prowling in the back garden when we first saw him. During a cold winter 2 years back he was a bag of skin and bones and we took pity on him, took him in and now he thinks we are his pets, as cats do. We call him ‘cat’ my granddaughter named him boo boo, he answers to puss, cat and sometimes boo boo. Except his is scared to hell by our granddaughters. He is normally passive, yet the sight of the granddaughters he skedaddles for hours on end, only re-appearing when they are safely back home. We think he must have come from somewhere that he was abused by children as he has such hatred of them, to the extent if I see him in the garden and pick him up to show the children he hisses and has even scratched me on one occasion !
It is an interesting [if futile] exercise trying to work out an animal’s “previous life”. We have worked out that our Penny was much loved but that the owner died, probably of an illness. She is very attached to us and gets nervous if one or both of us is absent. She also worries if we sleep too long, and possibly wonders if we are dead! She loves visitors, be they adults, children or dogs and goes wild with affection but very quickly tired of them and retreats to a quiet corner. She’s very like us in that respect.