Cheese Glorious Cheese!

*burp* excuse me, blame it on the vintage cheddar!

Those of you who follow me on Twitter will have noticed my penchant for cheese, in particular, vintage tasty cheese. It took huMum a while to figure this out as she isn’t a big consumer of cheese and rarely has it in the house. A day finally arrived when she was using it to make scones. Oh the aroma! I tell you it is better than the “nip”! So I miaowed loudly, did double back-flips, climbed the curtains, sat on my scratching pole (which overlooks the kitchen bench) to attract her attention. Eventually she noticed me (dumb blonde) and passed a morsel. Gulp it was gone! “Oh you like that do you?” she asked. “More please,” I replied.

The problem is huMum had read an old wives’ tale that cheese is not good for cats, something about it causing us constipation. Well I’ll have you know that my bowel habits are very regular and none of anyone’s business!

Ever since the breakthrough day of the cheese scones huMum has given me little scraps of cheese when she is using it in her cooking, but it is never quiet enough. It just makes me want more and more and more! OK I’ll admit it. I am addicted. I love they way it looks, feels, smells, tastes; it is manna from heaven.

Liberation of the Cheese

Way back in June this year I hatched a devious plot and told you about it but, with only 140 characters in Twitter, it is very difficult to explain the scheming, calculating, hard work, danger and suspense that goes into appropriating a block of cheese. So here and now I will tell you the full story and I know you will forgive my embellishments.

I’m sitting at our front window patiently waiting for huMum’s car to come up the driveway. There it is! Zooming through house at breakneck speed, exit via my door, I arrive just as she steps out of the car! My head is rubbed but that is not what I want. “Open the hatch now you silly huMum, let me smell what you have brought home for me,” I miaow. I jump in when it opened and rummage through all the green eco-friendly bags and, yes, I smell cheese! Wrapping my body around huMum’s legs as she carries the bags to the kitchen and not letting her alone for a minute until she unpacks “my” cheese. “What! What are you doing? Why are you putting it in that cold white machine and hiding it from me?” I’m so disgruntled I leave in high dudgeon, tail in air showing off my neat arse!

The rest of the day is spent scheming. I go on Google when huMum is having her “nanna nap” and discover that the cold white machine is called a refrigerator and that its door has a rubber seal. Ding! My brain light goes on! I can definitely break into this cheese eating monster but first I have to grow my nails extra long. For the next few days I don’t allow myself to use my scratching pole or to climb trees. I must be patient and very wily.

Two days later, when my nails are very long and sharp, I start. Yes, you guessed it! I am going to strip the rubber along the bottom of the cold white machine’s door so that I can extricate my cheese. If I’m lucky I might be able to set free the chicken wings and beef patties too. It’s wonderful when I get big bits of rubber off, so rewarding. OK it is nearly 7.00am; using my tail I have to carefully sweep the evidence under the refrigerator. OMC the smell of cheese is strong! I’m pretending to be asleep on the back of the sofa while watching huMum, out of one eye, make her breakfast. Think I forgot to tell you that the sofa is my second favourite place to nap. Sorry I digress; the break-in will take place tonight.

Oh no, I just heard huMum telling her girlfriend that she is going to watch the soccer World Cup tonight. I can’t execute my plan to snaffle the cheese until after 2.00am. Instead, I’ll do my Neighbourhood Watch early, plus check out the mouse’s nest under the mulch bin.

Quietly I sneak back into the house dragging the barbecue tongs behind me. Puffing and panting, squirming and struggling I eventually manage to prise open the door of the cold white machine. Triumphantly I jump in! Uh oh! The door has slammed shut and the light is out! Shivering with cold I brace my shoulders against the meat tray and heave with my back legs. Escape made! Now for the mad-cat run to my wee swinging door with the cheese in my back-pack.

Burp, please excuse me. Yikes I am so fat I look like a black Garfield. Worse still is that my gigantic stomach is preventing me washing my “privates”. Think I better go for a nap and, hopefully, sleep it off.

Ten hours later … OMC I’m blocked! Straining to pooh is definitely undignified. It is worse than having kittens! Parp! Ugh, did I do that? Washing my arse in embarrassment. Not only that, I’m in pussy-purgatory as huMum has found the empty cheese tray! I’m pretending to be oblivious to her mutterings but she knows me too well. I’ve been sent to my naughty chair and been denied snacks for a week. I would do it all again tomorrow if I could summon enough energy.

Nap time, bye-bye for now!

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2 responses to “Cheese Glorious Cheese!

Always be delighted to hear from you, xxx's

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