The Saga of Cat Brown 8: Vet Noir

Expression 32: Baleful

Expression 32: Baleful

To truly illustrate how much Ambridge loathes going to the vet, I need to go back a few months to when she stopped eating.

To be clear, Ambridge does not wish to stop eating. She is what one pet website politely terms “food-focused”, to the extent that I had to replace her automatic cat feeder with the feline equivalent of Fort Knox, sourced by H when she mastered how to burgle and eat its predecessor’s contents in five minutes flat. Continue reading


The Saga of Cat Brown 7: Cat Borstal

photo (2)

The view from my room at sunrise. I KNOW!

Weeks without a mention of running – not a whisper, not a complaint, nothing.

No, I haven’t dropped out of the Marathon and yes! The banging on about running will continue ALMOST IMMINENTLY! But really it’s because, for the last fortnight, I have been in Thailand with my family. As holidays go, it was a good one. Chat, horrible jokes, gin and tonics, games of Snatch It and Bananagrams, new places (for me, at least) to eat and watch the sun set, and the inestimable luxury of stepping outside and it feeling as though you were stepping into a warm bath, only without the humidity.

I read more books than I have in ages, stuffed myself with everything, and got to spend time with my brother and his utterly fabulous girlfriend who has just moved out to Singapore to live with him. From the sounds of their first dinner party this weekend just gone, they will either be high society by March, or dead.

And what of Cat Brown? My neighbours, and friends, very kindly offered to watch her or have her at their houses, but whether I was worried for Ambridge, my flat, or her running off/destroying things and never coming back, I decided to put her in prison for the duration so at least I’d know where she was. Continue reading

The saga of Cat Brown 3: mastering how to get in things and out of things

Since it transpired that Ambridge wasn’t going to keel over and die immediately from her heart condition (probably thanks to the vast sums I wrenched out of my credit card and waved at the vet), I have been able to climb down from my mountain of angst and start preparing her for a life outside my panicky, weepy clutches.

ambridge cat outside (1)

Ambridge, just to be contrary, has become incredibly needy. If she isn’t sitting on you, she is following you around going “LOOK AT ME! LOOK – AT – ME!” Continue reading

The saga of Cat Brown

Ambridge the cat

First night at home

I’ve wanted a cat for years. I’ve wanted a cat with the searing,  borderline insane yearning that conducts itself into endless cat videos,  crooning over Instagram pictures,  and bringing most of my Twitter feed to a crashing halt one Friday last summer by posting a link to Kitten Cam. I knew all the cats in my street,  and my neighbour’s enormous panther monster used to be a regular visitor,  sizing up my decorating efforts before miaowing to be let out again. Continue reading

Pets with pleasingly boring names

Naming an animal is incredibly hard. When we got our first dog in 1990, a pedigree golden retriever who would later turn out to be the most allergic animal in Britain, we had to name her something beginning with an F, as though she were a newly-minted Volkswagen instead of a fluffy little ball of carsickness.

I chose Flora. My younger brother chose Frank Bruno. Sadly for Flora, I won.

Last week I named my future cat Colonel Aurelio Buendia on the basis that I can call it Cab for short, and Ted Bundy when it behaves like an utter bastard. I am terrible at naming animals. Sometimes, simple is best. Like Steve. Or this lot. Continue reading