So I have a cat. My friends know this because 90% of my tweets or Facebook posts are about the damned cat. The thing is he isn't really my cat, he's my partners cat. It's actually because of the cat that we met as the cat was involved in a road traffic accident with a parked car (I think this will probably be another post at some point) and due to the vets bills my partner had to take a second job at my local watering hole to pay for it.

I've always been a cat person. Ben was probably around 4 or 5 when I was born. When he was very old I had to take him to the top of the garden every day so that he'd have to walk back to the house in order for him to get some exercise. He was so proud that if you overtook him he'd stop and wait for you to walk behind him.

Perry (we didn't name him) was the other cat in our lives when I was a kid. Perry was a brilliant white cat with bright blue eyes who was bred as a show cat for stud....however he was afraid of other cats, especially female cats. So he entered our family, a prawn loving, smart clothes ruining, puking ball of fluff. 

This brings us to Rexham (seriously who names these cats?!?!). I've learned a few things the hard way with this one, especially since my partner has over the last couple of years spent prolonged periods of time away from home due to her work and now university masters degree so I am the primary food provider of this one.


  • The cat only tolerates me. If he sits on me it's because he's cold, not because he likes me. He only likes my partner.
  • Every holiday or weekend away I've had in the last 5 years has involved having to find someone or group of people to come to the house and look after him. This has often been such a faff that it negates the point of going.
  • Whenever someone visits, within five mins he will have a s**t.
  • He's killed almost every plant in the house. This has either been by destroying it or eating them, making himself so ill that it costs a fortune and I then have to throw them out.
  • If you have crucial work to do, such as rebooting a couple of hundred thousand pounds worth of computing equipment remotely after a power-failure, he will want attention and the feel of laptop keys on his belly. If there is ever a compelling case for sudo this is it.
  • Creating anything to entertain him leads to disappointment. What entertains him is annoying me.
  • In order to facilitate getting his breakfast, he will shepherd me down the stairs, stopping one step in front of me every other step all the way down the stairs. Either that or he's trying to trip me so that I break my neck.
  • If I stop him doing what he wants to do, like attacking the elderly blind neighbour cat, he will just rip my leg apart. He actually did this, I have lots of scars!!

But after all of that, he's my cat and I suppose our dysfunctional relationship will continue.