Some time ago we said goodbye to our beloved cat, Norbert, whom some of you remember from the days of my Pilates studio. It took several months, but after a while we felt we were ready to get another pet. This adorable fluffball of a kitten, whom I introduced in a previous blog, was christened Freddie. We had hoped that he would help to fill the Norbert-shaped hole in our lives, and curl up with us on the sofa while we watch films in the evening.
As I wrote before, Freddie was not a replacement for Norbert. On reflection, it was unfair to expect him to be so… but none of us really had any idea just how different in personality our next cat would be. We had thought perhaps that he was just a particularly exuberant kitten and would settle down as he got older.
It’s now two years later, and all I can say is that Freddie has fully grown into his reputation as an abject troublemaker. Curl up and watch films? Freddie doesn’t sit still for more than five minutes a time. He will very happily come and visit you when you’re sitting on the sofa – but only to nibble your chocolate biscuit, lap up your cup of tea, or knock over your glass of wine.
We pride ourselves that we take good care of Freddie and feed him well – but he would tell you a very different story. No morsel or scrap of food can be left unattended in our house, and you cannot take your eye off your plate for even a moment. Chris, who helps us with the garden, unfortunately learned this the hard way. Freddie often turns up to visit, brushing himself affectionately against Chris’ legs and getting a nice scratch of his ears, purring sweetly. He then dives headfirst into Chris’ backpack and streaks off with his tuna sandwich. The number of times I have had to, mortified, offer Chris a replacement lunch, is more than I want to admit.
Apart from lunch thievery, Freddie’s other favourite hobbies include playing for hours with my hair bobbins, fighting cardboard boxes (the cardboard boxes always lose) and hunting toilet paper. We have to keep all the bathroom doors strictly closed so as not to find a teepee mess looking like something out of a film about rebellious American college students.
He doesn’t have worms, or any other issue the vet can identify. We have showered him with the same love and discipline that we bestowed upon Norbert, with very different results. Perhaps we’re getting soft as we get older – initially we kept bottles of water dotted around the kitchen, and Freddie got sprayed when he jumped onto the countertops. But he wasn’t deterred in the slightest, and there’s only so many times you can berate a beloved pet. Now we keep everything that could possibly be eaten, played with or knocked over hidden in cupboards, dreading the day when he learns how to open them – we might just have to move out.