Guest Rock'n'Roll Cat Of The Week: Morag, Owner Of Joe From Wolf People

Name

Morag

Nicknames

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.

Theme Tune

“Y’All Ready for This?” by 2 Unlimited.

Age

4?

Owners

Joe and Kelly.

Catchphrase

Hello How Are You Fine Thanks Goodbye (i.e moving too fast for niceties).

Favourite Habits

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.

Favourite food

Yoghurt.

Defining moment of your life

The day I got introduced to yoghurt, or should I say, the day I introduced myself to yoghurt...

Any enemies?

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...

If you could meet a celebrity who would it be and why?
Cheryl Cole or Ray Mears. Cheryl is just a great dancer, I love to copy her moves and dream of being as good as her one day. Ray could teach me how to live off the land and be self sufficient, rather than waiting endlessly for these idiots to feed me. I'd like to know things such as whether I can eat all the woodlice in the house or not. Plus I like his shorts.

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.

How does the life of a cat affiliated to a critically acclaimed acid folk-blues-rock band differ to that of your everyday run-of-the-mill cat?
Well I don't think they appreciate how much of an influence I am on them. My constant meowing, squeeking and beeping are all ideas for riffs and melodies, and I can hear much of that influence on the "Steeple" album. For example when I purr incessantly all night I'm actually working out very complex atonal bass patterns, and the intro to "Dorney Reach" was a result of me improvising around a particular troublesome furrball at around 3am. I was quite disappointed to find out that I'd been sent to the cattery during the making of the new album, "Fain", at my house. I thought I was on my way to a professional recording studio, or a meeting with some high power record label types, but in the end I spent a week listening to Radio 1 surrounded by idiots. I never forgave them, and when I returned for mixing and mastering, I didn't bother handing out any more advice. I tried to demonstrate my skills on the desk, but was again ignored. I they had four paws and a tail imagine how much better they'd be.

Compared to other cats I'm a little busier with Joe being in a band, there's a lot of work to do. I'm constantly having to check out guitar cases for comfort, check the speaker grille cloth on the amps for tautness and strength, helping Joe change guitar strings by biting the uncut ends and running off with the thinner more squiggly strings etc. There's a lot to do. I don't think other cats appreciate it.

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.

Wolf People's AMAZING new album, Fain, is released on the the 29th April. 

GUEST LITERARY CAT OF THE WEEK: MARZIPAN, OWNER OF ZOË HOWE

Name
Marzipan

Nicknames

Marzi, Little Bear, Boo Boo, the Boo Boo Bear, Great Big Pie, Pie-pan, Toffee-pops, Bing Bong Smythe (me neither).

Theme Tune
The words 'You're a boo boo bear' sung to the tune of The Beatles' 'I Wanna Be Your Man'. I know. Also, when I'm running daintily hither and thither, as I occasionally do, 'Diga Diga Doo' by Duke Ellington is my 'jam'.  

Age 

6 

Owners 

Pahaha! I don't think so. Zoë  and Dylan work for me, if that's what you mean. Zoë is a music writer and writes books about rock 'n' roll and Dylan is a drummer. They do try to keep the noise down for me though, so don't worry about that.

Brief biography

I was adopted from a rescue centre in Essex after six months on a little shelf next to my litter tray. There wasn't much room in there because they'd done such a great job and rescued so many stray cats. I didn't really like the other cats - one of them kept bopping me - so I stayed up on my shelf but I did keep smiling and when Zoë and Dylan came in, I was particularly charming. The rest is history. My previous owner was bed-ridden but I used to cheer him up, and that's where I get my habit of doing a pre-leap 'Geronimo!' miaow when I'm about to jump on the bed from, so I don't give anyone a shock. My previous name was Maggie May but I'm very glad they changed it to Marzipan (because my coat reminds them of Christmas cake mix, apparently) because I don't like Rod Stewart.

Catchphrase

'OOOH!' (genuine 'ooh!' sound that I make when food appears)


Favourite habits

Staring, smiling, bopping Zoë in face or on head in the morning, playing with my mouse AND catnip fish AND scratching post simultaneously, sneaking up on my persons and then zooming off, conversing with my neighbouring moggy Mr Black, walking on - and indeed sitting on - Zoë's laptop while she's trying to work and adding my own contributions, doing 'Neighbourhood Mog Watch', which is a very important job that entails staring out of the windows - front and back - as often as possible. 

I wouldn't say this was a habit but if one of my persons is a-bed with the flu, I like to contribute by bringing them daily mice, because they can't go to the shops and stuff. The only thing is I'm not that keen on mice and get a bit freaked out by them, but the persons always seem to know what to do. They certainly disappear pretty fast, so I guess they must really appreciate them. Once Zoë accidentally managed to let the mouse back out but I got it back in again. Marzi to the rescue as usual. You're welcome!

What constitutes a perfect evening for you?

Games, obviously, that's how I keep this fabulous figure in shape. Washing my built-in cape. Eating, of course - and by the way, I like my meals to be served to me properly. I have been known to sit about a foot away from the dish, even when it's full, because I like the food to be ceremoniously presented to me, preferably with the words, 'Ooh, Marzi, look at this lovely food!' Then I eat. 

Cuddles, I'm more cuddly now a year after I was adopted. I've decided I like these people. I then like to go to sleep on my blanket on the right hand seat of the sofa, and if anyone is sitting on it when I decide it's bedtime, then I'm afraid I do have to make a bit of a fuss. 

Favourite food

Bozita meaty chunks, cheese, the occasional corner of a chip. Mad for Dentabits too.

Defining moment of your life
Being adopted by my persons. I hadn't been having a very good time but they came and rescued me. They'd come to see another cat but I did my best smile at them and they fell in love (naturally) and took me straight home. Hooray! Oh, and meeting Mr Black. He's sort of my boyfriend. Sorry chaps!

Any enemies?

The hoover. Thankfully it seems to be Zoë's enemy too though. I don't like the sound of trumpets very much either. My worst nightmare would be if trumpets and hoovers were combined in some kind of mad scientific experiment. I wouldn't like that. 

If you could do one thing to make the world a better place for felines what would it be?

I would ban IAMs because it gave me cystitis which has been a recurring problem ever since, and has been known to cause kidney problems in other cats too sadly. Ooh, and neutering. Neuter those moggies! Ok, that's two things. Sorry.

If you could meet a celebrity who would it be and why?

The MGM Lion without a doubt. I've been trying to emulate him for years, and I'd love to know what makes him tick, not to mention what fur-care products he uses. Helluva mane.

Which one of the cats in Under The Paw and Talk To The Tail would you like to be stuck in a lift with?
Janet sounded like my kind of moggy and we'd have had fun, I think. Rest in peace. The Bear sounds a bit too much like Mr Black and I wouldn't want him to think he'd been usurped.x

The Bear Gives A Rare Interview

Me: "Good morning, The Bear."

The Bear: "Technically speaking, we're thirty seven minutes into the afternoon, but hello."

Me: "Well, a lot of people these days seem to still say 'Good morning' if it's still any time before lunchtime. Most folk just accept that."

The Bear: "If 'most folk' told you to lick clean the bonnet of Jeremy Clarkson's sports car after he'd driven recklessly through a muddy ford near his Cotswolds hate palace, would you? I'm just saying: accuracy never hurt anyone, and can alleviate a lot of very harmful confusion in the world."

Me: "Ok. I'll remember that. So, The Bear. Readers of Under The Paw and Talk To The Tail know your story now: your humble beginnings, being found in a carrier bag on the side of the motorway, then being rescued, moving to Norfolk with me and my ex, constantly having to put up with Shipley whacking the top of that cardboard box used to sleep in... right up until now, living with me, Shipley, Ralph, Roscoe, my girlfriend Gemma, and that muntjac deer who sometimes hangs around in the garden."

The Bear: "Hold on. So you're saying that I was struggling a bit, and you came along, and made everything better, by putting me in a couple of books and posting photos of me on the Internet for thousands of people to see?"

Me: "No. I wasn't saying that at all. I'm sure if you'd been rescued by someone else, who didn't go on to live with someone who had a career as a writer, you'd also have had a very nice life. I'm just stating the facts: you were once heartlessly abandoned. Now you live in quite a nice warm house. Constant supply of biscuits on tap. Several Peter Ackroyd books within easy reach. Lots of comfy surfaces. That sort of thing."

The Bear: "I would like to point out at this juncture that they were the wrong kind of biscuits until recently. The cheaper brand with the weird green ones in that I hate. I mean, who ever heard of a green cat biscuit? What's in it? Spinach?"

Me: "I'm sorry. These are austere times to be a writer. My house had needed lots of maintenance recently. I admit, however, that trying to save money on biscuits was a mistake. I have now rectified it. Moving on... How do you feel about the way I've portrayed you in the books? Is it accurate?"

The Bear: "I think the best I can say about it is that it is an accurate portrayal of a few aspects of my character: the aspects, perhaps, that face you, or at least those that you choose to see. I have many other aspects, but I can appreciate that you have an agenda, and may choose to ignore them. I'm used to being misrepresented, though. I mean - look at me. I was named The Bear, yet it would be patently obvious even to a myopic person in their eighties who'd neglected to get checked out at Vision Express for several years that the animal I am most reminiscent of aside from a cat is an owl.

Me: "I noticed that on the day that I finished writing Talk To The Tail, I'd only left the manuscript unattended for about four minutes, but came back to find you on top of it. You had very muddy paws at the time. Was that some sort of comment on the content?"

The Bear: "I felt, at first, a little disappointed that I didn't have a bigger role in the book, that you gave a little bit too much time to Shipley's swearing, Janet's thyroid condition, and Ralph's habit of meowing his own name at the top of his voice at 4am in the morning. And those horses? What was all that about? I calmed down afterwards, and saw that I'd perhaps overreacted. Later on, though, I was disappointed with the paperback cover. You've never even met that kitten on it. It was just some actor kitten. Let's face it: the book doesn't even have a kitten in it."

Me: "I've come to kind of think of it as a Trojan kitten whose job it is to sneak all the animals in the book into readers' houses."

The Bear: "We both know that's nonsense. Your publishers chose the cover, and you had more or less zero say in it. You and I both know I should have been on the cover, cleaning my arse, or looking dolefully into the readers eyes and winning their hearts with my torn ear, and that that would have been a truer reflection of the book's content."

Me: "I notice that you caught your first mouse not all that long ago. You're seventeen now. That took you a while, didn't it? At least, I think you caught it. I can't be sure, as I only saw you with it when it was dead. You could have just claimed it, after Shipley or Ralph got bored of kicking it around the front room."

The Bear: "I caught it. It was pissing about by the compost heap, and I happy-pawed the little gobshite senseless. Nextdoor's cat Biscuit will back me up."

Me: "Speaking of Biscuit: How's that working out for you?"

The Bear: "Good, actually. I'm making progress. I pressed my nose against the kitchen window and stared at her the other day and she didn't even do a projectile grass vomit on the tiles. We've had a couple of scraps recently, but it's that kind of play-fighting that you do when you fancy each other."

Me: "Sure. How are your legs today? You seem to be doing that slightly camp walk quite a lot recently."

The Bear: "It's not "camp". It's just arthritis. We all get it. I'm actually in fantastic health, for my years."

Me: "It is true: You've never looked better. Those scabs on your ears have cleared up, and the many expensive tests the vet recommended earlier this year that I shelled out for turned out to be for nothing."

The Bear: "You've not had much luck at the vet's recently, have you? Y'know, what with that, and the feral you took to have his balls cut off and get tested for FIV, who then ran off?"



Me (coughing): "Changing the subject. You're my cat now, b..."

The Bear: "No, I am my cat."

Me: "Ok, I'll rephrase that. You live with me and my girlfriend now, but before that you lived with me and my ex, and before that you lived with my ex's ex. Do you feel there's any kind of stigma attached to that?"

The Bear: "Not really. You're the one who keeps going on about it."

Me: "You get on well with Gemma, though. We sometimes joke that if the two of us ever split up, she'll have to take you, to keep the trend going.

The Bear: I guess that could happen. I like her very much. Plus, she doesn't listen to those terrible 1970s folk albums that you do, or voice what she presumes to be my thoughts in a fake posh accent that makes me sounds like I'm some ageing homosexual ex-presenter of Jackanory who's never done a hard day's work in his life."

Me: "I wouldn't feel too singled out on that front, if I were you. I talk to a lot of animals in a fake posh voice. I'm always saying a braying pretend upper-class "Hellooo!" to that horse who lives down the road.

The Bear: "The one who looks like Todd Rundgren? I know. He told me, and he thinks it's WEIRD."

Me: "Really? I didn't realise you wandered that far any more, what with the arthritis and everything."

The Bear: "There are a lot of things you don't know."



Me: "I'm currently working on my third cat-themed book, to follow Under The Paw and Talk To The Tail, and there is a pilot for a prospective sitcom inspired by the books being written in America. Do you have any hopes for the content of these?"

The Bear: "I would hope that you might not go into too much detail about my irrational dislike of rain, or my more experimental bowel movements, particularly the incident earlier this year with your original vinyl copies of Neil Young's Doom Trilogy. I'd hope that, if such a sitcom happens, the cats in it still have their claws - both metaphorically and physically speaking. More generally, I would also hope that that small novelty Santa Claus hat you bought from Pets At Home the other week will not be coming out of the kitchen drawer at any point in the near future."

Me: "Thank you for your time, The Bear. I'll let you get back to sleep now."

The Bear: "That's ok. I see it's raining out. Before you go out to get me that turkey you mentioned earlier, could you just move that piece of protective cardboard you've had covering the "Y" section of your record collection? No big reason. I just feel it makes the room look a bit shabby."

Read more about The Bear in Under The Paw and Talk To The Tail