Sheila Collins - Truffles Diaries: Memoirs and Mewsings of a Fat Tabby Cat

Title Page

TRUFFLES DIARIES

The Memoirs and Mewsings of a Fat Tabby Cat

by

Sheila Collins

Publisher Information

First published in 2008 by Apex Publishing Ltd

PO Box 7086, Clacton on Sea, Essex, CO15 5WN, England

www.apexpublishing.co.uk

Digital Edition converted and distributed in 2011 by

Andrews UK Limited

www.andrewsuk.com

Copyright 2008 by Sheila Collins

The author has asserted her moral rights

All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition, that no part of this book is to be reproduced, in any shape or form. Or by way of trade, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, be lent, re- sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser, without prior permission of the copyright holder.

Cover Design: Siobhan Smith

Illustrations: Sheila Collins

Foreword

Anyone who has owned an ageing, fat, spoiled cat will immediately recognise the one in this book. Truffles is confident in her human slaves, snoozing on the sun warmed patio of her Cornish home and reminiscing about past events. When you read these feline memoirs, you will recognise some of the cast of four legged creatures but there are some new additions in the shape of several new kittens next door.

My own cats, Pugwash the Second and Arbuthnot would just love this book. What a pity they cant read - or then again perhaps not. They might learn too much about controlling humans!

Ann Widdecombe

May I Introduce Myself...

Hello people, my name is Truffles and it seems pretty cool at the moment to write a diary - how popular are Bridget Jones and Adrian Mole? Before I start, though, just some background information so you will realise that I am, in fact, rather an important cat...

I am now fifteen years and eleven months old, so Im looking forward to a big celebration when, in a week from now, I reach the magic age of sixteen - roughly comparable to about eighty in human years. Im pretty sure that my personal humans who look after me are planning something nice for the occasion. They do try their best and generally we get on well, but sometimes they can be so obtuse about things that to me seem simple to understand.

My humans names are Sheila and Peter and I have lived with them since I was six weeks old when they collected me, together with my friend Tansy, from a refuge centre where we had been taken. I cant remember my kittenhood prior to that time and I feel it was probably quite traumatic so I have never tried to relive it.

Tansy and I were picked by Sheila and Peter, Ive always assumed, because we stood out as the best looking of the bunch. I have an immaculate tabby coat in variegated stripes of co- ordinating shades of browns and tans and I can say that, even now that I admit to middle age starting to creep on, my coat is as thick and glossy as ever. Tansy, on the other hand, wore a rather ordinary catsuit in black and white longish fur, but in my opinion it was rather sparse. Still, she had a very cute little face and I suppose thats what attracted Sheila and Peter to her as well as me.

At first, and indeed for about fourteen years or so, we lived in a house with a very large garden, and even a woodland lake, in the heart of Cornwall. It was a paradise for cats. Apart from Tansy and yours truly we also had three other feline pals living with us - Lucky, a rather nice boy in a pale shade of ginger and white and Taro, a rather snooty aristocat, who claimed famous ancestors, and he did, I must admit, have rather unusually soft fur in trendy shades of cream and seal colour. Tansy and I often rather envied him his haute couture coat when the new seasons feline fashions came out. Last but not least, there was dear Robbie, another ginger and white boy who, sadly, had only one eye.

We all got on moderately well, though Lucky was always my favourite and if he asked me nicely I did allow him to share my basket and keep my back warm. He always had rather a crush on me which was flattering, and I was not averse to the odd edible gifts he would bring me. He may have had thoughts at one time of even daring to propose, but I soon steered him off that track as both Tansy and I had become celibate right from our time in the refuge. Still, it was nice to have his adoration and I used to notice that Robbie and even snooty Taro watched me with a certain amount of longing (you can tell you know) whereas they both treated Tansy as a naughty younger-sister kitten.

Lucky, my hero!

We had quite a houseful in those days as, apart from we five cats of all different shapes, sizes and colours, we also had to endure two other major irritations! One was a large St Bernard dog called Hennessy who was for ever loping around and shaking off his fur all over us and drooling over our heads when he felt affectionate. The other was the sound of a large, foul-mouthed blue and yellow Macaw called Geronimo who made our eardrums rattle with his screeching. To complete the menagerie, there were tropical fish in a glass tank indoors and outdoor fish in the pond. The indoor variety seemed unreal to we cats, but we did have a bit of fun stalking and frightening the ones in the pond.

Now, sadly, all my old pussy companions are gone, and I even shed a tear when the slobbery old dog went to that big kennel in the sky, but I must admit I wasnt too sad when that wretched Macaw moved on to a place full of other Macaws and screeching parrots - how absolutely ghastly that place sounds!

So the humans and I have now moved to another house in a different part of Cornwall. I must admit I do like it here and of course I am now the sole kingpin - or should I say queenpin - in the new house, and I make quite sure that my carers never neglect their duties as far as my welfare is concerned. I like to think they enjoy looking after my diet, coiffure and litter tray, and I expect - and get - lots of pampering too. I am satisfied that they know my rules by now.

I make sure I take good care of myself by getting plenty of sleep and only eating healthy, life prolonging food. I never exert myself more than is absolutely necessary (why keep servants and do things yourself?) and I do make sure I test their patience from time to time - you must keep humans up to the mark at all times!

Anyhow, now you know something of how I came to be here today so I hope you will find some pleasure in reading my diary for the week. It may even inspire you to keep one yourselves.

My Week

Early Summer 2004

Sunday

8.30am

Was awakened from a rather nice dream - I was chasing a mother mouse and her three babies - by Peter stumbling down into the kitchen where I sleep. At least I do get a lie-in on Sundays as normally he rudely awakens me at the unearthly hour of 6.30am on weekdays - something about going out to earn money, whatever that is.

8.35am

Found myself propelled towards the back door, my personal cat flap opened, and before I knew it I was through it and standing out on some dewy grass. He always does this to me - I tell you, would you like to take off your fur-lined knicks in wet grass early in the morning? Of course not!

8.36am

I came back in.

8.37am

Went on cat litter and performed. I like to see Peters face when I do this. I particularly took the time to scuff up the litter so that quite a lot fell over the sides of the litter tray and onto the carpet. Then I sat and watched as he brushed it up into a dustpan and then made the top of the cat litter nice and clean and flat again. He was muttering a few words under his breath that I normally wouldnt like to hear in public, but when he glanced at me I gave him an encouraging nod and he got on with it and it was soon cleaned to my exacting standards once more. I dont know why he always kicks against doing this particular little task - it is, after all, quite clearly detailed in his job description.