Mini Morag, Catsini, Mini Catsini, Raggins, McRaggins , Baggins, Taggins, Mo-rag, Calamari Johnson, Ragtag McTavish, Cat Pipe, Cat Tube, Maxi Jabsticks, Cretin Box, Fuzz Warbler, Massachusetts, Skinny McBag O’Fluff, Arrow Mouse, Grappler, The Gribbler, Beatrice Rotter, Spanish Rat, Scuba Diving Lobster Pot and Velocicat.
“Y’All Ready for This?” by 2 Unlimited.
Joe and Kelly.
Hello How Are You Fine Thanks Goodbye (i.e moving too fast for niceties).
Running. Running as fast as I can. I like to go really fast, in and out of doors, back and forth across the living room, sometimes incorporating a quick street dance routine that I’ve been working on in the week, accompanied with a quick furtle (technical term) of the paw under the edge of the rug in front of the fire. Also divebombing from the top of the wardrobe onto the bed at 3am in the morning, I love this, and so do they, judging by their loud exclamations! I also like staring, sitting just out of eyeshot and looking right into the middle of your very being.
What constitutes a perfect evening for you?
After a day of sleeping and waiting patiently by the door for the big leggy cats to get home, I like to greet them by running as fast I can at their feet as soon as they step in the house, this is great fun. I then do this really cool trick of pretending for the next 30 minutes that I want something, but then not actually going through with it, say for example: staring at my bowl, watching the food go in, then turning round and just walking off. Again, due to the loud noises they make in reaction to these activities, I know they enjoy it. After tea I spend the entire evening either practising dancing, or waiting for a warm lap to become available. The warmest and hairiest of the leggy cats is especially warm when working or when attempting anything productive, and I find draping myself over its shoulders or lying on its hands particularly satisfying. I really enjoy this, and I let it know by wiping my nose on its face.
I have a brief exercise period just as they are going to bed, which involves trying to get between the cushions and the sofa back using only my wrists, or shinning along the back of the sofa, with my ears in the “fight” position, just to let them know how cool I am. I then retire to the top of the wardrobe ready to divebomb them from a great height at approx 3am. I do all this whilst purring at a purr level I like to call “knackered old diesel engine filled with coins”.
However, the evening can change rapidly if one of them decides to play the wiry wooden box thing or listen to one of those round shellac plates that scratches around on the table. They call this music, I hate it. I dance to the music in my head.
Defining moment of your life
The day I got introduced to yoghurt, or should I say, the day I introduced myself to yoghurt...
Chickens, most living things in a 5 mile radius, namely pheasants.
If you could do one thing to make the world a better place for felines what would it be?
Yoghurt for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The ability to make any door open at will, be it a cupboard door or one adjoining two rooms, any door really...
Which one of the cats in Under The Paw and Talk To The Tail would you like to be stuck in a lift with?
The Bear. I’d like to try and cheer him up with my dancing.
A few words on Morag from Joe:
She was born on a farm outside Grassington, North Yorkshire, surrounded by a 1000 other cats of various heritage. Looking for a kitten, we answered an advert in the local paper, and were immediately offered both her and her brother. Unfortunately the family’s young children were dressed as pirates while we there to pick her up. I say unfortunately as at the sight of the huge tinfoil sword being swung toward it, the male kitten ran under the cupboard and only came out 5 hours after we left. Reckon it had all the sense genes as the newly named Morag proceeded to terrorise our house for the next 6 months with her outlandish street dance routines and kamikaze runs headfirst down the stairs. She’s mellowed out in her teenage years now, a strong bout of worms at the age of 1 gave her a bit of perspective, and she’s maturing nicely, turning into a right grumpy old beanbag. She’s probably the best cat I’ve ever had.