By Mousie, chronicler of mischief and mayhem... and Grammy's good girl.

Good afternoon, dear friends.
Well, we have entered another week of this turmoil.  If only people would be smart and considerate of others .... and this includes those in power! Get real, people.  Let's get this under control NOW rather than later.  And a shout out of appreciation for those on the front lines - essential services, medical, suppliers, truckers, support workers, neighbours and friends... all helping where they can.  We applaud you. Stay safe.  Stay healthy.

Enough said. I know I'm preaching to the choir here and those that need to hear it won't be reading this anyway.  Now on to our blog...

So, today I'd like to talk about my goofy brothers.  Yes, Rondo and Etude.  Those furballs have been totally loopy in their attempts to entertain Grammy and their friends.  That's you, our readers.   They dove into the storage room, found a trunk full of old clothing and costumes.   Why, you ask?

They decided to disguise themselves to go shopping for groceries for Grammy and 'to work'.  I have to say, their 'work' is monkey business, not where they earn money.   They had planned to go on an adventure across the border but it's been closed and Grammy stopped them when she caught wind of their antics.  Well, after they got back from grocery shopping they went back in and found more outfits. 

They were having so much fun we decided to join them. Then, when our friends heard about it they began to send photos of outfits they found in their family trunks.

We hope you get a giggle out of the 'fashion show' and some other 'stuff' we found.  Oh, and read the comments at the bottom of each photo.

Lastly, a Happy Birthday March 27th to our friend Third of Muddy Waters fame.

Comments are welcomed. In fact they are encouraged.  We love reading them.

by Whiskers, Matriarch of Mischief and Social Butterfly

Good evening, Friends.
This is going to be a short blog this week.  Grammy isn't up to taking a long dictation or doing a lot of thinking or mental gymnastics.
 
We are going to share photos of the three members of Mischief and Mayhem Central who have passed on.  They are PussPuss, Grammy's first kitty, Malcolm who was adopted to keep PussPuss company, and Montague aka Monty who was adopted after PussPuss passed when we found out he needed a home and Malcolm was lonely.

PussPuss arrived as a 14 month old mischief when she needed to be rehomed.  She chose Grammy by tapping her on the shoulder and meowing. She demanded to be adopted and taken home INSTANTLY!  Once there she settled in quickly at Grammy's apartment and spent the rest of her years getting into a lot of mischief some of which you can read about in the series Into the Archives.

Malcolm was adopted about a year later to keep PussPuss company while Grammy's job took her on the road.  While Malcolm loved his big sister, PussPuss was less enamoured of the little black squirt.   That didn't stop him from snuggling up to her when she was snoozing.  But, when Grammy was home Malcolm clung to her.  He loved to be held, cuddled, danced around the room and played with.   He was full of mischief too.   There were times Grammy couldn't find him.  He'd tuck himself in amongst the LPs and books on various shelves and blend in to his surroundings.  He'd give Grammy such a scare... and would have this little mischievous smile when she finally found him as if to say... fooled you, Grammy.

Malcolm lived to well into his 18th year... was blind for the last three years. He adapted so well to it that it was quite a while before Grammy clued in.  AND despite his blindness he never had an accident but...  In his latter years he often howled at night, possibly disoriented/lost in the condo.  But as soon as he heard Grammy's voice he'd join her and settle down for the rest of the night.  Sweet Malcolm.  Read more about Malcolm in another Into the Archives post.  

Malcolm and Grammy missed PussPuss when she passed but didn't realize how much until they brought another needy kitty home.  That sweet boy was Montague, aka Monty.  He'd been left at his vet's practice with instructions to euthanize him.  The vet in all conscience couldn't do that with such a young, gentle and sweet cat.   Word got to Grammy who went to see him, immediately adopted him and brought him home. 
Monty had his issues... the result of a bullying kitty sibling in his previous home.  It took a few months but eventually he overcame his fears and his behaviours.  Grammy attributes that to Malcolm's super laidback nature and Grammy's soft reassuring voice... allowing him to relax and realize there was nothing to be afraid of.  
​Unfortunately, he passed young from a heart defect... but his last 18 months were happy, mischievous and filled with love.   Monty had the softest coat, the sweetest disposition and was the cheekiest of the three kitties.  You can read more about Monty here. 

So dear friends, I hope you enjoyed this look into the distant past.  

Comments are welcomed... especially if they are funny, mischievous and/or cute.

Now, the cats...  
​
PussCat during their life before Grammy moved to Toronto, started out with a long investigation into names that started with the letters PC.  Grammy was obsessed with computer technology when it was in its infancy and thought PC related names would be great fun.  So, Personal Computer, Progressive Conservative, Politically Correct, Pussy Cat, Power Corporation, and many others were tossed about and of course Pussy Cat won out... but was shortened to PussCat. Then once they were in Toronto it morphed into PussPuss.

Malcolm was a black cat.  There was a cat book out around that time about a cat named Malcolm.  Grammy had just read it ... and as Malcolm was black head to tip of tail she toyed with Malcolm X, but finally settled on just plain Malcolm.  Now let me clarify that the name had to suit the cat too.  If he hadn't looked like a Malcolm he might have been called Murgatroyd   or some such silly, hardly pronounceable name. Phew!  Imagine living down that name!

Monty was third cat to enter Grammy's domain.  A youngster of 14 months, abused by his sibling and no longer wanted by his 'family' when a new baby arrived in the household, he was called Gizmo.  When Grammy saw him he was too regal for that name and needed to forget that part of his life. That warranted a name change and besides, he needed something more distinguished for such a handsome boy. The name Montague came to mind and seemed appropriately elegant... and it stuck.  Later it was shortened to Monty to keep the names to 2 syllables but in Grammy's heart and mind he was always Montague, the handsome boy who never really grew out of kittenhood.

Now on to our current batch. We've probably bored you with this and our names have been explained on FB but here goes once more.

Mousie and I, Whiskers, arrived together as fosters and when the door to the carrier holding us opened I jumped out into Grammy's arms, tickled her with my whiskers as I wrapped my paws around her neck and purred.  The Rescue named me Chelsea but I preferred Whiskers because I'm so proud of mine. Grammy agreed.

Mouse was the wee timid beastie cowering in the back of the carrier, refusing to make eye contact with Grammy and scared to the core.  Well, her name has evolved over time.  She is such a gentle creature.  Wary but never nasty or mean or aggressive so Grammy added Gentle and she became Gentle Mouse or Gentle Mousie and it suits her to the core.

Those boys.... Yes, Etude and Rondo...were littermates born to a cat that Grammy was fostering name Fidelia.  Grammy got to name the litter and decided musical names would be fun and since the little scraps of fur were very vocal and constantly on the move (dancing so to speak) the group became the Sibelius Quartet - since it almost rhymed with the mom's name... and they became Musetta (the girl), Scherzo, Etude and Rondo and these boys names have stuck all these years, though Grammy does have a few choice names for them when they get into mischief.  Best not divulge those here.  

Sweetie, the last of the menagerie to arrive was just a baby and Grammy was into her flower phase of naming cats for the rescue... so when Grammy saw that cute little face she thought of the flower Sweet Cecily and that became her name.  Of course, it had to be shortened to two syllables and so she became Sweetie, which suited her nature when asleep.  Her demeanour when awake was much different and she might have been called Rapscallion if it hadn't contained too many syllables.

So there you go.  For Grammy, naming of cats was based both on the visual and the personality.  And our group name, Mischief and Mayhem Central comes from the chaos created by us all.  

​That's it for today friends.  

We welcome comments from you, our readers and will do our best to respond to them.  Let's keep them light, fun and if you'd like to share how you name your kitties and other furry family members we'd love to hear it.

by Mousie, Researcher of Miscellaneous Trivia

​Hello, everyone.  There, that took care of the Good Morning, Afternoon or Evening dilemma.  Hello, friends.  I'm back with another funny tale.  A short one this time. 

As you'll know if you read last week's blog Grammy went camping in her youth and adulthood before she got 'old' and crotchety.  And in that tale you heard about sassy Mr Skunk. Well, that wasn't the end of her encounters with animals that night.

​Once Mr Skunk had huffed and puffed and wandered off to feast in other campsites they (Grammy & her friend) settled down to a peaceful evening before the campfire.  Fortunately, vegetation was lush and wet so fires were permitted.  But this had its downside too.  That same lush vegetation was a breeding ground for mosquitoes and they were plentiful.  In fact, they were more than plentiful.  There were squadrons of them and they were all out and about on foraging missions.  What were they foraging for, you ask? Why fuel, of course.... and that fuel was high-octane blood of which Grammy had plenty.

For the most part the smoky campfire kept the mosquitoes at bay and that suited Grammy quite well.  Grammy disliked those buzzy critters with a passion.  While lower legs and arms were generally safe from the blood suckers most took great delight in tangling themselves in hair and dive-bombing ears, cheeks, forehead and thick juicy thighs.  Nasty beasties. 

What was unfair though was that not one of those critters bothered her friend.  She could never understand that.  Why ignore one and concentrate on another?  Maybe thick curly hair and hairy limbs protected her friend but Grammy's rich blood and delicate skin were an easier target.  But we won't dwell on this.  This isn't the tale I was going to tell.... so here goes.

After an hour of star gazing two tired campers settled into their sleeping bags expecting to sleep through til morning.  At some point in the night a loud commotion woke both. Suddenly on high alert, Grammy grabbed a flashlight, unzipped the tent flap while friend took up an ax and a second flashlight and went to investigate.  Was it a bear? Another skunk? What could be causing this cacophony of noises?

There, inside a hole torn into the brand-new kitchen tent was a raccoon raiding the larder - raw eggs, fresh fruits, a bag of chips...Yum!  Who knew raccoons could and would open cooler chests?  Definitely not these two goofballs!  And not to be left out of the feast a dozen blackbirds had followed the bandit leader into the tent, demolished a loaf of bread and a bag of cookies, scattering crumbs everywhere. 

​Now that they'd had their fill they were flapping furiously against the netted walls in a futile attempt to escape.  Grammy opened the flap, let them out while friend chased off Mr Raccoon. After cleaning up the disarray of the night marauders these two greenhorns returned to their sleeping bags and resettled for the remainder of the night.

​Only problem was that despite having cleaned up, it was done in the dark with the aid of two flashlights.  Not an ideal situation, and bits were missed.  These bits attracted their own parade of opportunists.  Squirrels, chipmunks, sparrows, finches, ants and you name it all made an appearance taking away bits and bobs -  bread and cookie crumbs, peanuts in the shell, dry cereal.  

A veritable feast was had by all and sundry.  AND what about Grammy and her friend?  They toodled off to town for a 50s diner breakfast and to restock the larder.  Lesson 2 learned.... all food stuffs were to be stored in the trunk of the car overnight.

Comments are welcomed... let's keep them light and fun.  ​

By Mousie, Researcher of Miscellaneous Trivia

​Good morning, afternoon or evening, wherever you are and whatever time you read this.  I had to say all that because Grammy says etiquette is important and we want to greet people with the proper greeting whatever time of the day it is.  It would be silly of me to say good morning when you are reading this at night, though it is morning somewhere in the world.  So now I'm confused.   Well, I'm covering all times of the day....just in case.

And so again I say, Good morning, afternoon or evening.  Phew!  Now we've got that over with I can move on to the important part of the blog.  As you know Sweetie has been diving into boxes in our storage room looking for dirt on Grammy.  Oops, I mean to say looking up other critters in Grammy's life.  Well, she's still researching on those bunnies.  They are elusive little hoppers. 

​While she was in there I joined her and found another box of stuff and boy do I have a few dooseys for you.   Wait until you hear this!  Grammy was a camper in her youth.  Can you believe it?  That old stick would sleep on the ground where bugs crawl! The same Grammy that freaked and almost had an apoplectic fit when a spider slipped down it's silky thread to tickle her neck and met it's sudden demise!  That's not a mistake the poor spider will make twice. *giggles* Nope, that spider made it's last and maybe one and only mistake - coming near Grammy.   Well, unless that stuff in the box is fiction Grammy was a camper.... and had some very interesting 'speriences.

​There were many things Grammy loved to do while camping and a few she wasn't so keen on.  She and her friend would go fishing at dawn, walk the trails to the top of the Canadian Shield for the views (and they were magnificent), swim in the lake, cook yummy meals, even bake cakes on her camper stove.  At night they'd light a campfire and enjoy toasted marshmallows (not S'mores.  No, she never really enjoyed those things), sit around chatting or listen quietly to the night sounds.  The one thing she truly disliked though was fishing near the marsh at dusk when squadrons of mosquitos would come out, dive bomb past her ears and come in for a landing on arms, legs and ankles.  But on with the fun stuff.​

The first night they camped - and this was Grammy's first time camping in years - they set up the tents - kitchen and sleeping.  Grammy (remember she wasn't a Grammy then, she was an almost 40s adult) made the evening meal.  They sat down for a delicious dinner of pork chops, mashed potatoes and vegetables, followed by a dessert not-named.  And of course, first thing you do after a meal, clean up. So, dishes done, garbage in the bag, kitchen tent tidied and Grammy set herself down before the campfire.  Her friend was still messing about near the kitchen tent and dusk was settling in over the campgrounds.   It was so peaceful listening to the fire crackling and the birds chirping and rustling in the trees as they settled in for the evening.

​Suddenly, a skunk crossed the distant footpath, waddled up to the campfire, sauntered between Grammy's legs, under her chair and onward to the kitchen tent.  It rummaged around the garbage, found the pork chop bones, gnawed them bare, rummaged around for whatever other goodies it could find, looked over at Grammy as if to say, that was meager pickings, do better next time and wandered off.  

​Now, suffice it to say, Grammy was a little shocked, somewhat surprised and definitely amused by this little stinker.  BUT, she wasn't stupid.  Grammy and her friend had learned a valuable lesson.  When dinner is done, take the garbage to the designated lidded garbage site immediately.  BUT that isn't the end of the tale.  No siree.  The next night, dinner done, garbage disposed of and sitting around the campfire their little visitor sauntered up, under and through again.  He (or she)stopped at the kitchen tent, rifled around the cooler and paraphernalia looking for the leftovers, huffed and snuffled and snorted, looked over at Grammy, grumbled and snorted again, kicked up some dirt in disgust and wandered off never to be seen again.  ​

by Whiskers, Matron of Mischief II

Friends, Hello!   Recently, while Sweetie was delving into the distant past I was sifting through a more current box of diaries, papers and photos and just have to share what I read with you.

You all know that PussPuss was Grammy's first cat.  Well, she was also the first Matron of Mischief, and I am her successor.   Grammy says she was a muted tabby but we aren't sure.  She looks more like a motley mess of colours all splattered on and then dabbed off.  BUT, she has a pretty little face. This is about PussPuss and the trauma of moving from a small city to the big city. 

There was a major downsizing required for this move.  As you might expect, it is more expensive to live in a major city so the cost of the footprint was higher thus a reduction in condo size would be mandatory. Finding one that was 'perfect': perfect location for work and amenities, older but well-maintained with elevators and close to transportation at a price point that worked had been a challenge BUT, she did it.   Problem was that as much as Grammy thought she had downsized it wasn't sufficient.  In fact, a further reduction of 50% would be needed before life became comfortable but that's for another time.  PussPuss didn't handle this change and the clutter well.

For the first three weeks Grammy, PussPuss and Malcolm were reduced to walking between piled up boxes of books, furniture, files and 'stuff' to go from kitchen, to bed, to bath, to sofa.  It wasn't very nice and it and the previous upheaval of the move took its toll on Puss and Grammy.  Malcolm, laid back beyond belief, was actually unperturbed by it all.   Grammy got sick with pneumonia  and Puss with an ear infection.  This story is mainly about Puss and her ear infection.

Puss became grumpy, didn't want to be touched, went off her food and looked just plain miserable.  New to the city, Grammy was concerned.  She had to find a new vet and quickly. With no car she had to choose one that would be convenient to the subway system or short taxi rides since there weren't any within walking distance.

Finally, with one clinic close to the subway and able to see them immediately, off they went.  The vet was very kind, took a look at Puss, who was uncooperative and with a little ingenuity managed to determine that her ears were infected and would need treatment.  BUT without her cooperation this was going to be a challenge. After almost losing a finger, the breast pocket on his uniform and a nasty growl and screech (by Puss, not the vet) the poor veterinarian decided the only way to examine her would be to anaesthetize her.  

Once under, they cleaned out the ears, treated them with a topical antibiotic but poor Puss had a liver condition and they almost lost her while she was 'under'.  They hadn't asked about previous conditions and even if they had Grammy didn't know that anesthetic was not advisable with her liver issues. What a shock!  

By Sweetie, reporter of things past.

Hello friends, 
Do I have a tale for you... one that you might find hard to believe. 

When I went into the boxes of old stuff from Grammy's past I found out that Grammy had a bunny.... actually, she's had a few bunnies but let me tell you about her first, Puffy.

Now, Puffy (or Puff as Grammy often called him) was just a wee baby when Grammy got him. Fluffy, white and pink in colour Grammy thought he was a girl so she called him PowderPuff.  But, finding out he was a boy she couldn't call him such a fluffy name so she changed it to Puffy and said it was because he was rather puffy at the nether end.  *giggles*

Back then, a gazillion years ago, bunnies were not neutered or spayed as they are today.  AND this little fellow had hormones racing through him which meant he was always on the hunt for love.  Grammy's ankle seemed the perfect mate when he was in a romantic mood.  Grammy on the other hand was rather indignant by such behaviour.  Grammy loved the little dude as a little bunny dude, but it was just plain rude to take advantage of her ankle.   Oh, Grammy! What a silly you are. *giggles again*

Well, Puffy, the little white bunny, spent all his time with Grammy.  When she went camping, he went camping, when she visited friends or family, he visited those friends and family. The only times he didn't accompany Grammy were when she went to work or for groceries or on long distance vacations.  

Puffy was a funny little mite who grew into a 13 pound, long-eared cuddlebunny. As a baby he was harness trained, loved to be cuddled, would fall asleep in Grammy's arms and as an adult would snore as he slept.  He was the talk of the neighbourhood.  Everyone loved the little white bunny with personality to spare.

But, let me tell you about the time he didn't hop beside Grammy like a polite little bunny.  Now it isn't his fault.  He was excited to be on his leash and going for a walk and just wanted to binky (unexpected sudden sideways hops).  

On this particular day they were camping near Lake Erie, Puff was in his cage anxious to get out and play.  After a short afternoon shower Grammy put him in his harness for a romp in a nearby field.  Both were excited to be outdoors and Puff bounced his way across the campground and into the open field.

Suddenly he binkied in front of Grammy causing her to lose her balance.  Her foot slipped in the damp grass, hit a clump of grass and dirt and she buckled with a 'snap'.  Worried about Puff she held onto him until someone could take the leash and take him back to his cage. 

Knowing he was safe, not in pain herself and not realizing there was a problem she stood up, heard a louder 'snap' and watched her leg bones separate just above the ankle She fell over once more.  Long story short, Grammy's 2 leg bones were now in 5 pieces. But that wasn't determined until later.  But Puffy was safe. That was all that mattered.

Next was to have the leg treated, so, into a vehicle and off to the nearest hospital.  The hospital was a small cottage hospital not equipped for what they saw in the x-rays... so that meant a longer trip into the city an hour or more away.  Packed into a blow-up cast and given something for pain, the next 'leg' *giggles* of the journey began.

​Long story short, Grammy needed surgery, knew the nurses in the operating room -members of her church and was teased about how a sweet wee bunny broke her leg.  A few days in hospital and months of physiotherapy and Grammy was almost back to normal and the bunny survived. 

So let's get back to Puff...

Another thing Puffy loved was to play in his cage... a 10 foot by 2 by 3 foot wood framed and wire meshed thing put together by Grammy.  One day Grammy set a foil turkey pan in the cage.  Puffy decided it was the perfect tool to entertain himself at night.  Two stories above, in her bedroom, Grammy could hear him dragging the foil pan to one end of the cage.  Then he would take a flying leap onto it and slide it to the other end of the cage where it stopped with a kerplunk.  This would go on repeatedly through the night each and every night.  Drag, scrape, rattle rattle , kerplunk.  Drag, scrape, rattle rattle , kerplunk over and over again. What a scamp.

AND when Grammy had to be away for whatever reason Grammy's mom would bunny sit.  She was forewarned that he was a scamp and he loved to chew things - wires, carpet, rope, wood and if she let him out of the cage HE SHOULD BE CLOSELY SUPERVISED.  Emphasis on CLOSELY!!!  Grammy returned to find out GreatGrammy hadn't listened and her telephone wire and stereo speaker wires were chewed.  The bunny was busy scamp and GreatGrammy was an unhappy bunny sitter.  Shoulda listened!!!!

There's more in those archive boxes (like Twink and Wendell and Peaches and others) but we're out of time today.  Let's save them for another blog.

Friends, we love to hear from you so please leave comments here and we'll reply... but let's keep it light and fun.
​

Check out the new bed.  And look at the face on silly Monty.  I think he loves it..............

​Now, I read that Monty had issues... and one of those was his fear of the litter box.  Turns out whenever he needed to do his business his brother would chase him out of the box so he did it outside the box.  Grammy had been forewarned so kept puppy pads and newsprint around the box.  And 'they' were right. sort of.  He was a good wee fella and always peed in the box but pooped outside but very close to it and always on the puppy pads. He was trying to be a good boy.

​Malcolm was such a laid back kitty that in time and with a strategic placement of the litter box Monty began to use the box consistently.  It only took 6 or 7 months...  but finally he had overcome that obstacle.

And he had other issues. The one we knew, others we found out later. One of these was a retained milk tooth.  And as cute as a button as he was, he wasn't all there... in the noodle.  Despite being checked by the vet prior to surgery to remove the tooth and being told his heart was strong... Monty's heart gave out.  He went into congestive heart failure from the anesthetic... and Grammy had to let him go.  It was the only thing to do hard as it would be on Grammy and Malcolm.  Their 18 months with Monty were filled with love and neverending entertainment. Wonderful memories! 

​Now, the fun side of Monty.... as I said, he wasn't all there in the noodle.  BUT, Grammy loved that about him.  He would do such silly things... kittenish things, even though he wasn't a kitten anymore.  Come to think about it.... he wasn't much different than Sweetie is now and she's six.  Maybe he was all there, just that like Sweetie  he never lost his zest for life.   Like her he loved mischief. 

By Etude, Archivist (aka Mr. Attitude, aka Pinky, aka Fuzzy Britches.



Before we carry on with this blog, let me just say that Rondo and I got lost in the boxes and bins of papers and a jumble of miscellaneous bits and bobs.  What a mess! We have barely surfaced for the odd meal over the past year and a half while sorting, grouping and resorting.  Once we hit bottom, it took much groping and grappling and rappelling to find our way up and out again. At one point we were stuck in Mousie’s closet after sneaking a peak in her diary.  We almost starved to death waiting for her to leave the room again. *giggles* So, we apologize for not posting before this but it was nearly impossible until we had the full scoop.  Here goes ...  

Once FishTV was no longer the main focus  (See Into the Archives II) Puss needed a companion to keep her occupied during Grammy’s long days away from home.  Grammy's solution?  A youngster cat - the perfect playmate for a young miss!  Enter Malcolm, energy on paws - with a Kapow! Surprise!  Look ma, I’m home!!!! 

Let’s back up a little here.   Weeks of planning went into this new addition to the household.  Visits to the rescue, meet the kitties needing homes, see which one might be compatible with the house diva, make a decision, wade through the approval process, wait for the chosen one to complete his meds.  In the meantime, there were long chats with said diva to discuss the ‘impending arrival’ all of which, as you'll see, were consummately ignored as insignificant trivialities beneath the concern of a self-proclaimed star or possibly misheard as ‘pending rival’.  Whichever it was, things did not go smoothly.  No it didn't! 

Yes, despite weeks of planning and Grammy thinking the meet and greet was under control the whole “Puss meet Malcolm.  Malcolm, meet your older sister Puss” was far from perfect.  The cardboard carrier had been gnawed to bits on the trip from the shelter to home.  Barely held together by one Grammy, two arms and a chin and containing a wriggling, squirming ball of fluff just itching to escape his confines.  The old girl barely made it from underground garage to apartment.  Malcolm burst out of the cardboard carrier as it was set gently on the floor. 

Little Malcolm was excited to be out of his prizzen.  Oh boy, oh boy!  Yippee! Puss was not!  Oh no!  Not in the least was she thrilled and she made sure he knew it.  Hiss!  Swat! Zoom, leap, leap!  Feisty Malcolm, light, agile and full of energy after being contained in a carrier for all of 30 seconds had sussed out the two bedroom condo sunken livingroom and all then levitated in a single swoosh to the top of the kitchen cupboards in 3 seconds flat with the not-so-agile, hissing Puss a distant 5 seconds behind.  

Did I say Malcolm was feisty? Well, yes, he was a brave, yet wise little furrball too!  He had to be to have survived frostbitten toes, tail and eartips through a freezing December of snow and ice with only the odd mole and bird to sustain him.  Well, you think you're tough, Puss!  You’re mush! Pudding!  Mushy Pudding!  Malcolm only put up with the bossy Puss for three days.... three! What he lacked in size he made up for in chutzpah!
   
Day 1 Grammy set food, water on the upper cupboards above the refrigerator and supervised him while he used the litterbox.  

Day 2, although the reaction of Puss was decidedly chilly and the chase no less determined, Malcolm braved the litterbox on his own but continued to feed just beneath the ceiling. 

Day 3, the little duffer decided enough was enough.  Down he came, stood his ground, then challenged the house-princess/diva for a share of the territory.  From thence forward their relationship was love/hate at best. 

Malcolm loved her; Puss hated him – at least that’s how it was when Grammy was around. Hard to know what went on behind closed doors.

To say he loved her might be a bit of an exaggeration but he was willing to let bygones be bygones. Puss? Not so much! This little kitten was invading her territory... HER territory. HER home. A home which came with a fully equipped kitty pantry, provided Fish TV and 100% Grammytime, now was to be shared with a black bouncing, interfering ball of fluff – not edible, not able to open tins – in other words a USELESS bother!
Now, let me tell you what we discovered about those two. If Grammy entered the condo quietly as she often did, she could catch them yin/yang style on the bed at which point they would leap apart with a startled 'How did that happen?’ look from her and an 'Oh well, nice while it lasted.' from him.

So, back to those boxes... on further delving through the morass we found out Malcolm liked clothing.... yes, you heard it right. Malcolm liked to dress up. Malcolm was a clothes horse. Not to be confused with a quarter horse or a pony. No! But a veritable lover of clothing. Now don’t get me wrong. He wasn’t keen on being dressed in frilly dresses and bonnets – doll style. Oh no! He had taste – more in the line of Grammy's business attire – silk shirts, business suits and all the accoutrements that go beneath. AND for nightwear a soft t-shirt nightgown trimmed in lace suited him best. Even better if it had Scent of Grammy on it.

Of course, these were his business and nightwear but let me tell you... he was a many-faceted fellow. For visits to his country cousins, who were far from the bumpkin crowd there were plaid shirts and dungarees for daytime romps, bubble pipe and smoking jackets for those sophisto evenings and a night on the town required nothing less than spats, dinner jacket and trews à la Fred Astaire or bling à la Liberace! Oh yes, you heard it! Malcolm considered himself a showman and dressed the part! Loved to swirl around the parquet floors tapping his little toes every chance he got, tinkling said toes over the ivories. The whole shebang. By far his favourite daytime cat-about-house attire as he aged was his animal print smoking jacket. Reversible, no less! But for those other occasions he still insisted he be dressed appropriately.

Unfortunately, only a few photos survived our rappelling. Our apologies, but at least you can see him in his zebra and cheetah jackets.

What is it about clothing that is so enticing to cats, you ask? I can hear you...if not out loud at the very least it lurks in the nether-reaches of your mind.... I just know it! Yes, I do so don't deny it. Well, we aren’t all quite so enamoured of clothing. At least, not as enamoured as Malcolm. No siree bob!

We, the Mischief and Mayhem crew don’t care to dress. We’re twenty-first century cats, modern, hip and into the au fur lifestyle. We prefer to be unencumbered most of the time... but we have our moments. Yes, we certainly do. Let me say this... Put a piece of clothing on the bed and one of us is in it, under it or on it in two seconds flat. Freshly laundered and out of the dryer and it takes but a nano-second.

Now that is quite different from Grammy’s Malcolm. He actually loved to wear his around the house, morning, noon and night, awake or asleep. But by the sound of it, he was a pretty stoggy old duffer in his dotage, and you know what that's like. Yes, truly! Uh-huh. You got the picture.

Oh, the dryer has stopped. Gotta go! More later! Bye!