Saturday 16th January 2016

Grumpy Kike

I am Kike (pronounced Keekay, get it right, readers). I am a 4 year old Tonkinese cat and this is my journal of the trials and tribulations I face as a house cat who is smarter than her humans and brother combined.

Saturday 16th January 2016

Christmas has come and gone. We spent a week together, snoozing, watching TV, playing and eating before life returned to its usual pace. I have to admit you rather enjoying that week and regretting its end. But the world continues to turn.


My brother enjoyed the myriad of new toys and I enjoyed the treats and food. But now we have some exciting changes. Our male slave has been making no end of noise I’m his quest to build things. Usually this is a damned inconvenience, but I have been pleased with some of the results.

As I may have mentioned, I am a sucker for a game of chase. Unfortunately, the game is often forced to an abrupt halt when I run out of space to run. This, I think may be about to change. Our shelves that run along one wall have been extended, and he doesn’t seem finished. I can’t tell you how excited I am about this. I must admit to being somewhat giddy about it all. Of course Ajali forgot all about it within moments, but he’ll be just as excited as me when it’s finished and he realises what it is.





One more thing. 1 week. Remember I told you a Busu was coming? Something to help me against my brother’s sharp teeth and strong jaws. Well, I heard the slaves talking about, “The Day of The Busu.” It’s in 1 week. Just one more week. I am intrigued to see what will tame or cage the savage beast.


Now I know I have only a few days to wait. Wish me well, my friends.

What happened to Father Christmas?

When I was a child Christmas was a magical time. My parents would buy two eight foot trees for the first two floors of our Southsea townhouse. We would decorate them together, using the ornaments made by my brother and I on the family tree on the first floor and the posh ornaments for the ground floor room where parties were often enjoyed. The trees were colourful and sparkling with little silver bells, baubles and tinsel. The nativity scene was set and awaited the baby Jesus.

My brother and I never saw a present until Christmas day. All presents were safely stashed away where prying little fingers could not reach. My parents would try to send us to bed on Christmas eve telling us to make sure we were asleep before Father Christmas arrived or he wouldn’t leave us any presents. But we would be so very excited. We’d ask to stay up late, and they warned us against it but would allow it. And then, like magic, we would hear the bells on Father Christmas’ sleigh. We’d race to the window to try to catch a glimpse before Mum hurried us to bed.

My heart racing, I’d hide under the blankets squeezing my eyes shut and thinking I would never fall asleep. But of course I did. And when I woke, a huge stocking stuffed with satsumas, nuts and toys was hanging from the end of my bed. Once I had finished with my stocking I would race downstairs to the tree that was magically transformed, surrounded by presents of all sizes, all shapes. What a miraculous sight that was. Father Christmas had visited and left us a heap of presents. We always knew which presents were from the benevolent man in red because only our names would be written on the tag. Father Christmas never signed his name.

Many, many years later and today’s British children are excited about Santa. Today’s parents, who probably grew up with Father Christmas, are telling their children Santa is coming. I know the name is largely irrelevant, but it feels like a symptom of something lost from British society. Father Christmas was a part of British identity. I remember learning about his many different names across the world. But with today’s lack of borders through the internet, language has homogenised to some extent and Father Christmas seems to have been lost.

I miss those days of innocence. And as an adult, I miss the nuance and individuality of British English as it becomes more and more Americanised. Of course the lack of borders is also a positive change and that gives me loved ones all over the world. It’s not an advance I would change. And of course, they may have taken our Father Christmas, but we haven’t given up our s for z just yet.

Monday 21st December 2015

Grumpy Kike

I am Kike (pronounced Keekay, get it right, readers). I am a 4 year old Tonkinese cat and this is my journal of the trials and tribulations I face as a house cat who is smarter than her humans and brother combined.

Monday 21st December 2015

Christmas is upon us. Ajali and I have been helping decorate the tree, wrap presents and sort through the shopping bags our male slave brings home. I enjoy Christmas and this will be Ajali’s first. I have told him about the food and the presents, but he doesn’t believe such a time can exist. I look forward to showing him he is wrong.


Ajali playing in boxes

Ajali remains excitable and rather uncouth. He leaps about, making the humans laugh. He steals anything and everything. It’s like living with a puppy. He chews everything he can get his sharp teeth on, including me! That’s when I yowl and the slaves pull him off me. Sometimes I yowl when he hasn’t even touched me, just to see him pulled away. Although the humans are getting wise to this now. Who would’ve thought they were smart enough?

Anyway, here’s something interesting. Remember when I said something is coming? Well I was right. I don’t know what it is, but whenever Ajali bites me they assure me Busu will be here soon. Should I infer this Busu will somehow stop Ajali biting me? Perhaps a Busu is a protective coating? Or a barrier I can breach but my pesky brother cannot? I don’t know, but I shall keep you posted.

In the meantime, Ajali may be irritating, but he plays a mean game of chase. That kitten is fast, but I am wily. I always win. Always.

Sunday 18th October 2015

Grumpy Kike

I am Kike (pronounced Keekay, get it right, readers). I am a 4 year old Tonkinese cat and this is my journal of the trials and tribulations I face as a house cat who is smarter than her humans and brother combined.

Sunday 18th October 2015

I suspect something is happening. I am not sure what, but something is definitely coming. I shall wait.

Prompt: The Interview (456 words)

“Now, how did you come to be here today?” Godfrey sat forward, elbows on knees with a broad, inviting smile. Dinah, his interviewee seemed nervous. Her voice quivered and her face shone with ruby coloured apprehension.

“I saw your advert in the paper. I thought you had a vacancy for a PA.”

“Oh I do. I have an opening, but it needs to be the right person. You do understand?” He waited for a nod of agreement before he spoke again. “I will require a level of dedication you may not have committed to before. I am a busy man and only the finest, most ardent allegiance will do. You understand?”

Dinah nodded but didn’t speak. Her body shook a little and Godfrey wondered if she were made of the right stuff to join his company. He waited in silence, hoping Dinah would feel compelled to fill it with speech. She twisted her hands and feet to an accompaniment of light squeaks from the chair and its bindings.

“I’m not sure I’m what you’re looking for,” she said. Her voice was quiet but firm. Godfrey gave a lop-sided grin and lifted a questioning eyebrow. She continued in a louder and more confident tone, “Forgive me for wasting your time. I must not waste any more of it.”

She attempted to stand, but her hands jolted her back into the seat. They were not only bound to each other but also to the back of the chair. She strained her wrists and ankles against the leather straps that held her in place. Her eyes, far from being wild with fear as they had been for most of the interview, were hard and determined. They narrowed and fixed upon Godfrey’s face.

With delight, Godfrey jumped up and clapped his hands together, binding the fingers. “Marvellous,” he said. He offered a hand to shake before remembering she was bound and unable to return the gesture. “Silly me,” he said, retracting his hand. “Dinah, I knew you had the spunk for this role. You’re a fighter.” Godfrey grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet, the nervous energy of the interview beginning to break free.

“Please,” Dinah said. “Please, let me go.” Tears began to spill from her eyes.

“My dear, I couldn’t imagine life without you.”

He took a gag from the back of her seat and placed it over her mouth. She tried to scream, but the gag performed well, as it had done many times before.

Another quality acquisition, thought Godfrey as he switched off the light and left the squirming woman in her cell. He would sleep well, revelling in the relationship to come and the eventual addition to his beautiful collection of personal assistants.

Friday 9th October 2015

This morning my human slaves took Ajali away and came back without him. I admit I was somewhat fond of the little guy, despite him irritating me to distraction. And he really wasn’t that little. He’s bigger than me. He’s always biting me or chasing me. It simply isn’t decent, dignified behaviour.


Behaviour. He doesn’t really understand the concept of good behaviour. He’s always stealing things. Stupid things like spoons or scissors. If you’re going to steal, although I have some issue with the term steal– how can I possibly steal something that is mine by right? Anyway, if you’re going to steal, make it cheese, or ham. Make it chicken or fish. Something worth stealing. I have no idea what he wanted a spoon for.

The slaves are constantly catching things he throws from the shelves, chasing him to pull things from his mouth and racing to rescue some prized possession he’s about to destroy. I’m not surprised the slaves finally realised he’s more trouble than he’s worth.

So now he’s gone and it’s back to just me and my humans. Oh I know I was lonely after losing Kai, but I’m sure I’ll be better able to cope with that this time. What is more important is this house finally revolves around me alone. As it should be. So far, they’ve given me treaties to apologise for leaving me alone this morning. They fed me breakfast as they left and I chuckled to myself because they didn’t give Ajali any!

Today is a good day. The first day of the rest of my life.




He’s back. He smells funny, like the place we go to see the woman who stabs us. I hissed at him when he arrived. I let him know I wasn’t impressed at his return.

But, in all honesty, I think maybe I am pleased to have him back. Just don’t tell him that. He’s too full of himself as it is.