As contributor to AGGK at Linda’s invitation


Ruby’s Letter to Agent Gina Ginger Knickers

 

My dear Gina, your long distance cousin Ruby reporting upon embarrassing moments.


Briefly, as you may know, my Mamma, Mrs Ribby, was a street alley cat for two whole years having been abandoned, during which time she had three sets of kittens. 

If ever you cannot get to sleep for your full sixteen hours, just ask her to relate (AGAIN) the dreadful time she endured - you’ll be in PussyCat Nod directly!


Anyway, having learnt to survive on dubious noms, her ancestral genetics kicked in and she investigated the small racing mammals around her environment. As each litter of kittens were weaned, among many things, she instructed us in how to attempt to survive.

We do not know what happened to the first two litters, possibly four kittens in each, but three sisters and I were all lucky enough to find forever homes. I have not heard from Dolly, but by all accounts, she is doing well.

Sadly Sylvia and our other sister Clawdia, having reached adult-hood, met with difficulties - fast mechanical horses on a busy street and a challenge for an expert vet.


So I am the only kitten who has been with Mamma for a full four years now, which I believe is a rare occurrence. My Mum’s really great and we often tussle over the last Dreamies!

Seemingly she had not made clear the differences between rodent species, even though in England we only have two urban ones, mice and rats. Please remember we are dainty but wiry girls, my Mamma is less than four kilograms. She had used for instructional and training purposes some of the weaker and smaller mice from the latest local litter and I quickly picked up the techniques and teeth grips to be used.


As an aside she briefly mentioned that our compatriots, The Bullpuss and Mungojerrie, being 7 kilogrammers and with wider mouths, were the only fellows she could trust to deal with rats.

But little old me, finding it all very exciting, thought why not me as well!


Gosh, they are so much fun! 

It is a bit difficult to drag a heavy rat through our normal sized cat flap, but once inside they nip off like jack-rabbits - whatever they are!

Very Old Mistress gets so excited and speaks very loudly to me.

Very Old Master has constructed a set of what he calls “Rat Tubes” of different lengths - some still have their posters in; he leaves them in strategic places, baited with cat biscuits or peanut butter on croutons and usually within 24 hours, Mr or Mrs Rat sneaks in to feast and can be carried out to the front garden in a tube held high to avoid anyone jumping on to VOMas’s head!


VOMis takes videos depicting the release which are to entertain the younger family members, plus our “friends” upon t’internet - whatever that is - sadly “CatBook” was caught and trapped by the “Thought Police”.


Now, Mamma had forgotten to explain what the weird bushy fellows are; I now know they are squillows or something and VOMas, who is somewhat smug over a Zoology degree from donkey’s years ago, explains that they are not specifically rodents but something called Sciuridae - I said they were weird, didn’t I? Related to chipmunks and who came over the Atlantic Ocean on migrant rafts many years ago.


I had watched these fellows for ages. The timid mice are best caught when they venture out at night. The braver rats sneak around and call you rude names. The squillows leap everywhere and I am so envious of their ability to leap from bush to tree and then along VOMas’s pergola. Anyway, one day, one had its back to me whilst it was feeding its face on snacks stolen from nearby bird table, a fat-ball or something. I crept up ever so quietly, with the breeze to my advantage, waving my tail to alert Mamma if she was watching.

Then, a magnificent cat pounce to secure the prey.

Miaoeeek, what a surprise for me. Squillow whipped his body round, we tussled and those reversible wrists they have, proved a little better than my claws as an evolutionary adaptation.

Then, have you seen the front teeth they have? Miaoscheeesch! I was badly nipped in the side and quickly retreated, much to my chagrin.


Next day I had a painful swelling where the bite was and was completely off my noms. VOMis and VOMas spotted my predicament and the next morning, a Saturday, phoned up vets to seek attention.

Now this was in the hoomans pandademic - whatever that was - and the Vets were having staffing difficulties and couldn’t answer my call for help.

Eventually VOMas and VOMis took me to emergency vets a long way away and substantial sums of money were expended on mending me.

The Old Furry Mopprag, my ersatz great-great-grandmother said it was money well spent and that The Bullpuss could cut down on treats for a week or so to save up!