I never finished it, and it was written in the present tense, and too difficult to change.
This was about 5 years ago, so a lot has changed since then, but I thought I would post it, cos I suppose it's good for a laugh. (Not sure if non-cat lovers will enjoy...) So here goes...
Okay, so I’m a cat person…
Technically, I only own one cat. His name is Merlot (aka: Merly, or Merlycat). He is one year old, and honestly, the most adorable cat I have ever owned! (And I’ve owned plenty!)
Technically, I only own one cat. His name is Merlot (aka: Merly, or Merlycat). He is one year old, and honestly, the most adorable cat I have ever owned! (And I’ve owned plenty!)
A cute Merlycat
Now, when I say “technically”, there are a few others that, due to Merly’s friendly nature, have taken it upon themselves to make my home their second home. (I don’t think their owners ever see them, apart from at dinner time!)
Misha with Merly
Bubba
I’ve actually given up on chasing them out, because it really doesn’t work, especially now that winter is almost upon us. 'The One' and I usually wake up in the morning and find Misha cuddled up on Merly’s woolly blanket, sucking the corner of a throw pillow. I think Merly has been spreading the word that he gets fed with special ‘Whiskas wet food pouches’.
In keeping with Merlot’s upbringing, I feed him the ‘Country menus in gravy’ variety.
You see, Merlot is no ordinary housecat. He was born on a wine farm, to a feral father and a not so feral mother. As this was my place of work at the time, I naturally took it upon myself to tame him and his two sisters, in order to ready them for home life. My plan was to try to give them away through a rescue organisation. As this organisation could not house the kittens, I had to drop them off in the morning, and in the event of them not being homed, I would have to pick them up in the afternoon again.
This went on for three Saturdays. I was getting emotionally exhausted every weekend with the thought of having to give up this adorable trio. After one kitten was homed through the rescue organisation, I convinced one of my colleagues to take Merlot’s other sister, Babyface.
She was the tamest of the bunch.
Babyface
Merly and Babyface Play fighting
The kitten that went to the Rescue Organisation
Merly's Mother
In keeping with Merlot’s upbringing, I feed him the ‘Country menus in gravy’ variety.
You see, Merlot is no ordinary housecat. He was born on a wine farm, to a feral father and a not so feral mother. As this was my place of work at the time, I naturally took it upon myself to tame him and his two sisters, in order to ready them for home life. My plan was to try to give them away through a rescue organisation. As this organisation could not house the kittens, I had to drop them off in the morning, and in the event of them not being homed, I would have to pick them up in the afternoon again.
This went on for three Saturdays. I was getting emotionally exhausted every weekend with the thought of having to give up this adorable trio. After one kitten was homed through the rescue organisation, I convinced one of my colleagues to take Merlot’s other sister, Babyface.
She was the tamest of the bunch.
Babyface
Merly and Babyface Play fighting
The kitten that went to the Rescue Organisation
Merly's Mother
Strange as it seems now, Merlot was the wildest of the bunch. 'The One' and I decided that we could not take Merlot home, as we were living with my mom at the time. Being hereditary, my mom is also a cat person, so of course she has two beautiful, but grumpy old cats of her own. They did not take it well when I brought Merlot home on a test run.
We ended up having to keep him locked in our room all night long. This was not good, as he developed an attraction to the movement of 'The One’s' feet. We tried this for a few nights, with no luck. He was not used to being indoors.
I could not bear to give him away, so we kept him at the restaurant on the farm, where I was the head chef.
Luckily he turned out to be quite a lazy kitten, sleeping next to the plate warmer on an old cardigan of mine, right at my feet everyday. Whenever the hygiene inspector came round, I would slowly drag him under the table with my foot.
Play fighting on a sack of potatoes
Well, I suppose you could say this is a real-life ‘Garfield’ story!
He stayed in the kitchen for most of his young life.
Unfortunately he had to be put outside at night as we had a very sensitive alarm system in place. Some mornings in winter, I would arrive at work and he would come running to me, drenched from the rain. I would dry him with paper towel and give him warm watered down milk, before he lay down to sleep next to his plate warmer.
He eventually started to venture out into the front section of the restaurant, searching for new warm spots to sleep. The winemaker was not too fond of him, as Merly seemed to think that the decorative stones under the wine barrels were his endless supply of kitty litter.
The guests at the restaurant generally enjoyed having Merlot around. The kids seemed delighted to run after him, although I don’t think he was delighted!
He started getting too adventurous for his own liking, one night, he ran out onto a floor full of dancing aunties at a wedding. After that, he pretty much calmed down, taking his early afternoon nap on the restaurant bench in the sun and to the front of house manager’s dismay, enjoying ripping up the expensive curtains every once in a while.
Right that's it! Sorry, I know it's cut short, I did say, "started to write..." Anyway, just thought I'd post it. I still enjoy reading it, cos it reminds me of how sweet Merly really is, and how much of a country bumkin he is!
