Obsessions of a Scaredy Cat

I have been reflecting this week that it is fortuitous that my owners are not famous and so are in no danger of having their phone calls or emails hacked. Otherwise, the details of my recent mortifications would no doubt be plastered all across the "Mews of The World". 

This week has been all about my obsessions and fears - not for me the common phobias of spiders (never understood this one, since they are a very good source of protein!) or heights (I delight in scaring the beejeesus out of my owners by venturing out of their fourth floor window, leaning back, and mewing, "Look! no paws!" - on a side note I should add that I love to climb high so that I can look down on everyone - it's also the reason I hate birds!)

No, for me the fear of all fears is..........window cleaners! I have promised to stop paddling at the windows and leaving my DNA, paw-prints and various "smears" all over the panes, if my owners will just stop procuring  the blood curdling thud of chamois leather and squeegee on the windows, but to no avail. I dread the monthly visit from those ladder wielding terrorists, when I am forced to slink away and hide behind the sofa until the torture ends - this week, the dreaded visit happened at supper time, and I was forced to miss a meal rather than brave the wicked scrape and squeak on the window panes!

And it seems that this trauma has lead me to develop an unhealthy obsession with my owner's new roll top bath - as with any obsession I cannot help myself, and last night, as if in some sort of trance, I found myself in the bath in the middle of the night frantically pawing at the dangling plug, bashing it back and forth like some sort of demented furry boxer in training! As the bathroom light illuminated my shame, I turned to find my owners viewing me with perplexed-dishevelled-been-woken-in-the-middle-of-the-night-frowns, and my female owner disowning me with the words "....he's your cat, sort him out so we can go back to sleep will you!?".

Such scolding is harsh - from the look I gave her I know she knows that I understood every word.......and have filed it for reference! The next time I rub against her neck she will never be sure if it's pure affection, or a trial run for the jugular! 

I have decided to combat my phobia and obsession by developing a diversionary habit - overeating and fostering the cardinal rule that when fat, arrange yourself in slim poses!