The Cecil Ave Cats

Today is one of those beautiful early winter days that Sydney turns on every now and again.

Cool in the shade, but warm in the sunshine.

The house over the back fence is the morning venue for the Secret Cats Business Meeting most days. Each morning in winter, cats creep from every where to warm their bones.

The silliest looking cat you ever saw is one of committee members. He sneaks down over our garage roof keeping a sharp eye out for our four-legged security guard Max. He slinks along the back fence (Kitty-Cat Highway) down the middle wall to the house over the fence. He pauses before leaping lightly up on to our neighbor-over-the-back's roof. He has a brief wash, and settles in, squinting in to the sun.

He is silly looking because while very much your average black+white, his markings are uneven. Instead of being black-headed and white faced, he has a white head and a black splodge over his mouth. It looks for all the world as if he is wearing black lipstick.

Sometimes the muscly black tom and the small ginger tom join him. Often he sleeps there on his own.

Max, our security guard with his black badge of honor over his heart is unimpressed with this sunbaking festival, heading off after breakfast to beat the crap out of them. So now we are on Christmas card terms with the vet.

He's good at patrol but not much of a bouncer.

Max, being partly cat, and part-short-man-in-fur-coat has a bit of a thing for birds. The noisy miners of our neighborhood flock, of course figured this out pretty much the first time they spied him. Ears forward, tail thrashing and whiskers twitching. At first they only came close enough to squawk at him from their tree. I'd be in the bathroom getting ready, and I'd hear screeching and chattering from the Noisy Miners, they'd be swooping him and then there'd be Max belting it for home.

They got more and more confident until Max lashed out and caught one their babies.

Fortunately I was hanging out washing at the time and managed to free it from The Great Jaws of Death. It was on for young and old then. Max vs. The Cecil Ave Flock. Point one was awarded to Max when he was quick enough to get hold of Mama Miner.

Foolish Max. Foolish, foolish Max. The thing with the Miners is they NEVER forget. It's Anzac Day every day of the year for them. Except without the parade. More Pearl Harbor really.

Lately we've seen them less and less. Possibly due to the over-development of the area more than just getting bored with their game of Get Max.

Since January we've added two more cats to our home. Joshie and Bianca. Country cats from Rockleigh.

Bianca has adapted very well to the life of Suburban Princess and Joshie seems to be still trying to figure it all out.

Bianca is a pretty cat with a tortoiseshell coat and white belly and paws. She is lightly built and very affectionate. She has a thing for biting my feet for food. She also has a thing for The Lobsters lunch. Hauling it out of his bag before he has left the room and tearing in to his cheese sandwiches. She is also quite keen on open cupboards. Often crawling in for a nap and being shut in by mistake.

Joshie, a fast-growing and boisterous black+white, has a real thing for dirty socks. He will swing on laundry-hampers to tip them over, fishing out a choice smelly sock, he'll bring it downstairs and dump it at your feet to get your attention. He adores having his head rubbed, leaning in heavily keeping the head-scratcher on task.

While the rule is lights out and cats out, Joshie will sneak in to our bedroom and plop himself next to the Lobster as soon as it's quiet enough to make his move. His weight, between us, is like a bag of potatoes that does not move when I do. I wake up trapped in the covers and unable to move because of his dead weight, and I have to get up and frog-march him to the door, leaving him to scrabble underneath the closed door with his claws in protest.

Our morning routine goes like this:

Alarm on at 6:45.

Go downstairs with all three cats ahead of me.

Smack Bianca on the bum for ripping up the carpet.

Make Coffee.

Max waits at the sliding door and Bianca heads for her dish.

Joshie dashes from door to food completely confused as to what he's meant to doing first. Cats out.

Max slips under my hand before I give him a pat and Joshie heads to my potted fig tree, attempting to make it in to his second toilet.

Smack him on the bum and plonk him in the dis-used vege patch.

The garden and cats and get watered as they scatter to their various spots in the garden.

Then it's back up stairs to shower and dress for work. Once I've showered I let Max in to the bathroom for a chat while I finish getting dressed.

Mostly he just looks at me with disgust, other times he sits in the doorway with his back to me, flicking his tail with irritation.

Joshie follows soon after, although lately it's more me fishing him out of cupboards than actually spending any time chatting.

Then it's a race for me to beat Joshie to the front door. It's a real hassle trying catch a cat who is determined to come to work with me on the bus.