Posted by: kathandroger | September 15, 2019

Cats and the Russian Vine.

When I was a nipper in London, we were not allowed a cat. I wasn’t even allowed a budgie, but did have a couple of goldfish, so I can’t pretend to be deprived. One bonus of adulthood was the ability to have any animal we could look after, hence a grand menagerie over the years. Now, some animals need looking after and tending to a couple of times a day, such as the greedy pig. Others can be left to manage themselves for a few days like the silly sheep. Some crave attention, like the adorable dog, and others can be used for pleasure, such as the horse.

Cats are different. They seem to regard us as an intermittent convenience; to provide them with food, although they can slaughter the local wildlife for nutrition if they need to, and to occasionally pet them, but only when they decide it is needed. The cat is the boss of the household, a supreme being who lives an independent life and uses humans only when he feels like it. Manipulative, especially when their food is late, intermittently aggressive, when their food is late, and sometimes loud, when their food is late. We are here to serve the cat, and the cat serves himself.

Our cat is called Dennis. It should have been called Una, after the friend who found him abandoned on a local track. He was a few weeks old, and still trying to suckle. It was only after a few weeks, that our little girl kitten was identified as a boy, so the name had to be changed to Una’s husbands’! Our dog hated cats, and we put the little mite in between its legs and expected it to be eaten. After a short pause, Boudie started licking the kitten, and that was the start of our cat being raised by a dog. Suckling was a problem, but the little thing was soon drinking milk and now, after six years, has grown into the matriarch of the menagerie. Dennis is very independent, and can be left for a couple of weeks when we go away, being fed by a clever machine which dispenses his food, and being able to jump into the back kitchen for shelter through a little hole we have made. On our return we just get a dirty look and life goes on as normal.

Dennis has a bad paw at the moment, but is generally very fit, and likes to be carried about sitting on my shoulders but only when it suits him of course. And he does like his comforts. My hammock has been chosen as the suitable site for his convalescence, so I have had to move elsewhere to relax.IMG_1017 (2)How can these animals control the household so easily?


Russian Vine, Mile a Minute, and lots of other names in Latin which I will never remember. A bloody great beast of a plant, which is used to cover unsightly buildings, and which can cover virtually anything near it in next to no time. Not very pretty, but apparently the bees like it, so it is not a real menace to everything. I have never needed to plant it, and never really noticed many round here, but this specimenIMG_1015 (2)in a local village just could not be ignored. Yes, it is just one plant, and has been cut back several times over the years, but has had its revenge and covered all these trees and buildings. It must be thirty feet high in the background, and over an area of at least a tennis court. I wonder if it is a Russian plot to cover the world in vegetation?


  1. Our cat Daisy started out as a barn cat but became an indoor cat with outside options after she was kidnapped by our repulsive nutty neighbour. Once we got her back we kept her in for her own safety for a while and she quickly became queen of all she surveys and we her servants.

  2. Glad to know I am not the only cat servant!

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