The Great Cat

Thou are the Great Cat; the avenger of the Gods, the judge of words and the president of the sovereign chief and the governor of the holy circle. Thou art indeed... the Great Cat. Inscription on the Royal Tombs at Thebes.

The Great Cat comes home today. My youngest daughter Liseanne left this morning armed with The Great Cat's carrier and an Ellie scented towel. She's hoping the Great Cat will get one whiff of Ellie's sensuous (okay, read that odorous and somewhat pungent) doggy body scent and fall immediately and completely in love, before first sight. She's arranged for a girlfriend to join her in the Great Cat rescue at 5pm and has planned out the Great Introduction of dog and cat over the next few days.

It promises to be a real dog and kitty show!

Ellie will lose her office privileges as that room becomes the G.C.'s introductory space, dog free. The G.C.'s cat house is already in residence, complete with catnip laden blanket and little mousey toe. The mousey toy in preparation for the G.C.'s ultimate task of ridding our home of the little furry rodents who insist on eating through bags of rice and peppering the cupboard under the sink with evidence of their visits.

Ellie, oblivious to the imminent arrival of a furry feline friend, is sleeping on her mat, a fluffy yellow duck toy between her paws. Wait'll the Great Cat gets an eyeful of this ornithologist of the four-legged variety. Can you see the fur flying?

Yup. Today is the day the feline arts take up residence in our household. C.C. is delighted. At least we got a male cat, he said. Though after today's operation the little guy will be missing a vital component of his masculinity. C.C. doesn't care. The Great Cat is a man! And in this household of predominantly estrogen laden human's, C.C. is looking for any support he can get to move the scales more in favour of testosterone and balance out the DNA predisposition of the inhabitants.

We're ready for the Great Cat's arrival. I've notified the birds in the backyard that the G.C. will not be wandering out of doors, and not to be frightened of his presence in the bay window. He may appear to be deadly, but in reality, he is stuck behind glass, doomed to only peering yearnfully at them. He cannot touch them. I promise.

The squirrel, in his continued quest for birdseed, doesn't care. Like Ellie, he appears to be oblivious to anything other than the feat of climbing the tree, going out on a limb and leaping down from the spiralling birdfeeder to the ground to enjoy the fruits of his labour.

All in all, we're all going squirrelly waiting for the Great Cats arrival.

It promises to be an entertaining day!