The Cat Dictionary (So Far) In Full

AIRSCRATCH
To flail wildly and absurdly at the air with one's back leg as one's owner attempts to "help" by scratching an itch which, in all honesty, you had perfectly well covered. Some say the air scratch is not as involuntary as it seems, and is actually an obscene gesture whose roots stretch back as far as ancient egypt: a kind of feline version of a two-fingered salute, but much, much ruder. Others just bemoan it as another forlorn symbol of man's increasing interference in cat culture, a debasement of nature that will ultimately send us on a road to a dark place where a word like "natural" no longer even has any meaning.

ARGLE
The noise that accompanies the eradication – or attempted eradication - of an ear mite.

CATGUT
The quality of feline true grit in the face of adversity (e.g. managing to stoically wait out the twenty minutes between the biscuit dispenser becoming empty and your human serf abandoning his overdue, half-finished piece of journalism to hotfoot it down to the pet store for replacement supplies).

CATIQUETTE
The ancient and mysterious social law that governs the cat universe and allows cold-blooded killing machines to live in relative harmony, frequently under the same roof. When is it considered good form to steal an older moggy’s favourite spot on a favourite chair? What exactly makes it ok to virtually insert your nose into a fellow cat’s rear end one day, and it a passing sniff an outright offence less than twenty four hours’ later? In a hungry gaggle of six of Norfolk’s most duplicitous, randomly thrown-together pusses, who decides who gets priority at the dinner table, and how? If you’ve sprayed a microscopic bit of piss on a curtain, why does that make you “well hard” in the environs of that room, but only “a bit of a big girl” as soon as you step over the carpet divider? How does a cat implicitly understand what a “garden” is, and where it begins and ends? Humans remain in the dark about all this, but Catiquette provides the answers.

DSDASIGHGDSHSDDC
Feline scholars are split upon estimating when the ancient language of dsdasighgdshsddc first emerged. Some put the date around about 1983, during the rise of the BBC Micro and the ZX Spectrum. Others claim that techno geek cats in San Francisco's South Park district were communicating in it as far back as 1974. Whatever the case, it is generally agreed that dsdasighgdshsddc has been in regular use since the early 90s. While often written off by humans as a random, unintentional series of letters generated by the patter of mischievous paws across a keyboard, what many people don't know is that dsdasighgdshsddc actually forms an entire exclamatory, often insult-heavy, feline language: a kind of profane moggy binary, if you like, being sent to other cats across the globe via a complex email system invisible to the human eye. Popular examples of dsdasighgdshsddc "dissing" include auoagfoylhgo ("Eat my tail scum!") and oiaiuhagiuggghafug ("Your mum was a Griffon Bruxellois!"). Of course, with the rise of the Internet, dsdasighgdshsddc has evolved, mutated and, some would claim, been irrevocably dumbed down. For example, jhjdhjdhdddddddvvvd ("Oh my god! How much do I want my owner to get off this computer and let me pad his stomach!") is now lazily abbreviated by many Generation Y cats to to a simpler, less poetic jhdvvvvd.

E.S. PEE
The telepathic process which leads a cat to only get properly settled on its owner’s stomach in the moments when that owner is most desperate for the toilet.

FICKLESPEE
The peculiar, tickly sensation experienced whilst swallowing a particularly meaty and recalcitrant bluebottle.

FOOL'S BOGIES
Crunchy yet slightly moist snacks that are passed off as a “treat” because they cost more and come in smaller, very slightly more lavish packaging, but essentially taste just like other more ostenstibly run-of-the-mill crunchy yet slightly moist snacks.

FURMAT'S LAST THEOREM
The inarguable mathematical law that states that a cat’s affection will rise and fall in direct proportion to the dirt on its body at the time.

GRIBBLY BITS
The bits of jellified catmeat that escape from the bowl and weld themselves to hardwood floors and kickboards – sometimes even if you don’t have kickboards.

HELPING
To offer crucial moral support with while one’s owner is hard at work. More popular examples include “Painting” (brushing one’s tail against some fresh paintwork and leaving a hairy residue), “Carrying” (darting in between one’s owner’s feet when they are transporting a heavy tray of food between rooms) and “Testing For Bacteria” (licking some freshly buttered bread while one’s owner's back is turned).

MOUSETACHE
A perfectly-placed mouse, held between the teeth in a perfectly horizontal manner (preferably with a slight downward droop at each end), so as to make the creature’s captor look particularly dashing. Out-of-vogue variations include “The Zapata Mousetache”, “Sidebirds”, and the rare-but-always-impressive “Handlebat”.

MUMMYFUR
Feeling a bit low? Looking back wistfully to that time all those years ago, when you still had testicles, and you could actually remember who your parents were? Why not stretch your claws, find some mummyfur, and get stuck in? Pretty much any soft, non-shiny, recently laundered surface will do, but slightly damp towels and sheepskin are considered the ultimate delicacies of the mummyfur genre.

MUZZLEWUG
The state of bliss created by the perfect friction of an owner’s fingers on a fully-extended chin.

NUGGIN
The act of pushing one’s cold wet nose into one’s owner’s hand or knuckle. Largely thought of as a gesture of affection, but sometimes given a bad press, owing to its alternative nickname, “Losing The Snot”.

NUGGBUTT
Essentially a larger version of the nuggin, involving the full upper-head area. Usually employed at times when jellied meat is in the immediate vicinity.

PUDDINGS
A particularly furious, zen kind of padding session, often, but not always, involving a far-off, determined look in the eye and immense wear and tear on soft human body parts. Also known as: “Marching” or “Cooking The Dough”.

QUANTUM PHYSICS
The mysterious force allowing a contented cat to fold its limbs, head and torso into an area a quarter of the size of its usual body mass.

RAIN PAPER
Tissues (preferably Sainsbury’s Rose-Scented).

REFLECTYTIME
Those meditative I-should-really-have-a-newspaper-here moments on the litter tray or the freshly hoed soil when one’s hard-set veneer of dignity is momentarily dropped, a certain faraway dreaminess comes over the eyes, and, just for twenty or thirty seconds, all in the world is right.

SETTING A PISSIDENT
To urinate in a completely new and innovative place, instigating a trend for such action amongst your fellow felines. Born leaders but also generally kind of snotty, cats who set a pissident know that their originality comes at a price, and, upon seeing others follow lamely in their wake, can often be heard to mutter comments like "here come the mindless vultures, picking over the corpse of my brilliance" and "now I know how The Beatles must have felt when they heard the Marmalade's cover of Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da."

SIMULSLURP
The mystic force that, without the need for discussion or consensus, will cause numerous cats in the same room all to clean their most hard-to-get regions at exactly the same time.

SLEEPING WITH THE FISHES
The particularly contented, lengthy state of REM that occurs after one has clandestinely intercepted one’s owners shopping bags in the wake of their last trip to the seafood counter.

TWHISKER
Also known as a “half-whisker” – frequently displayed by feral cats who have been caught in traps by unfeeling farmers and cat rescue officers or in the clutches of bigger, scarier ferals (“I was just a twhisker away from twatting that big-tailed ginger plonker”). Sometimes, Twiskers grow back, Sometimes they don’t. Professors of Catology remain in the dark as to exactly why this is. Often mistakenly thought of as a sign of masculinity or “streetness”, the Twisker ultimately signifies little aside from bad balance and potential undermog status.

UWOOKWACK
The wobbly-lipped noise made by a cat when it looks out of a window and sees a wood pigeon “acting up”.

Jump T-Shirt From Threadless: Great To Wear If You Like Cats, Even Better If You're Also A Jockey

Quite a few people have now written to me to ask where I got the t-shirt I'm wearing in the photo on the back jacket of Under The Paw (see above) - my only bit of cat-related clothing, I feel compelled to point out - so I thought I'd put a link to it here.

Special EXTRA Guest Cat Of The Month For May: Pepper

Name
Pepper

Nicknames
Peps, Pepe, Monkey, Monkey Moo, Woozy, Sweetheart, Sweets

Age
13

Owners
Andrew and Julie

Catchphrase?
Hello! I am here! Notice me! Acknowledge me! Hello again! I’m still here!

Favourite habits?
Sleeping on laps or the fluffy white cushions or under the duvet, depending on whether or not it’s radiator season

What constitutes a perfect evening for you?
Ignoring the television, sleeping, waking up, checking to see if there are any cats outside, hissing at my own reflection in the window while they shout out, helpfully, “It’s only you!”, then returning to sleep, possibly in a new place after a walk round the perimeter of the rug

Favourite food?
Applaws: tuna and seaweed, chicken and pumpkin; tuna in brine; a nice lick of some butter or cream, although this make my ear sore – I know I shouldn’t but I just can’t help it

Defining moment of your life?
Moving from a flat to a house with a garden when I was one year old. This is when I found my role in life: territorial enthusiast – neighbour’s cats beware! Boundaries are there for a reason, and you will respect my authority!

Any enemies?
Any number of blameless neighbour’s cats. Especially whoever it is who comes in my cat flap. They suspect the black and white tom, but I’m the one who has analysed the forensic evidence which he helpfully leaves all over the kitchen. I have enough to convict the invader

If you could do one thing to make the world a better place for felines, what would it be?
More Applaws flavours, and better stock at Pets At Home

If you could meet a celebrity who would it be and why?
I am the only celebrity round here

Which one of the cats in Under The Paw would you like to be stuck in a lift with?
I don’t think any of them would like to be stuck in a lift with me

Biography
I was born in North London to a lovely ginger mum who shared a house with Emma. There were three girls in the litter, Millie, Chilli and me – although none of us had names when Chilli and me went to South West London to start our new life. (We had an older step-brother called Weezer, named after the American band.) We lived in a first-floor flat for a year where birds only appeared on this big telly, then we moved to the house with a garden, where we could catch them and eat them and everything; then to a house outside the M25 with a bigger garden, although it was too big, and we treated the patio as our garden, occasionally tempted into the wide, open spaces by Andrew or Julie running ahead of us. It was just me when the three of us moved back to South West London, so I started to make a lot more noise to compensate for being the only cat in the house. There was a stupid little boy kitten for a while, but we don’t like to talk about it.

The Important Question: Would This Still Work With Shake'N'Vac?

Janet's Retro Litter Lake: Today's Item...

Name: Wildlife Choobs
Country Of Origin: France
Formerly Containing: Mini jellybean monkey or koala bear.
Tagline: "Baby Koalas Are The Size Of A Jellybean When They're Born."
Vintage: 7-8 years (estimated).
Signs of attachment: Longing looks, companionable silences, gentle placing on the lawn.
Weirdness rating: 5/10

I'm going to regret this, aren't I?

I'm sure this is going to make me feel like Buffy The Vampire Slayer in the episode where she can suddenly hear everyone's thoughts and ends up with world's worst migraine, but I am now on Twitter at twitter.com/tomcox75 in case you'd like to follow the random, often cat-related thoughts that make up my day.

Guest Cat Of The Month For May: Furball

Name?
Polly Furball

Nickname?
Furball, Puffball, Fluffy knickers.

Age?
Appx. 2.5 to 3 years.

Owner?
Bea and Roy.

Catchphrase?
“Brush me!” and “Now!”

Favourite habit?
Dribbling, fidgeting and putting the other cat in its place.

What constitutes a perfect evening for you?
I like to watch the birds and mice come to the window at dusk for their dinner and then I give them a good and scary stare through the glass. Then it's time for my supper, generally Sheba and Purina washed down with a little bottled water. After dining I enjoy taunting Lentil (the other cat) until she clears off and I get the nice warm spot she was sleeping on (usually the male staff's lap). I then demand a good brushing, when the male staff gets tired I'll move over to the female staff (food lady) and make her continue. Then after at least half an hour of rigorous noisy bum washing I will take a nap. I also like to try and coincide my litter box manoeuvres with meal times, this excites the staff and gives then a bit of exercise.

Favourite food?
I love Sheba salmon, beef and chicken and Purina One. I also love the grass the female staff's daughter grew for me. This enables me to leave some lovely gifts in the footware of the staff and in the dog's bed.

Defining moment of your life?
I think this would have to be the moment I was found on the streets of Wales, in thick snow, starving and matted, by a lovely human, Lesley, who found me a new home and gave me a second chance. She obviously could not resist my utter cuteness and hypnotic eyes and still does not realise it was I who found her.
Unfortunately due to the matting I had to have my 'parts' and tail shaved, this was highly embarrassing and not at all defining of my supreme catness in any way.

Any enemies?
Lily the utterly vulgar Labrador / Great Dane cross that also lives here. She too big and completely stupid. She leaves drool everywhere and has no manners at all. Clippers and /or scissors.

If you could do one thing to make the world a better place for felines, what would it be?
I would buy an island for us all to live on and it would be maintained by hand picked staff and stocked with mice, birds fish and fields of cat nip. We would hold the batting about world cup every year and there would be a special prize for the most inventive hairball hurling.

If you could meet a celebrity who would it be and why?
I would like to meet Michael Marshall Smith and interrogate him into telling me how he found out the cat teleportation secret. I would also like to meet Patrick Moore because he looks like he has a nice comfy lap and we both like to stare at the moon.

Which one of the cats in Under The Paw would you like to be stuck in a lift with?
Although I adore The Bear and have a huge soft spot for Pablo, it would have to be Janet. The time would fly past as we share and compare tales of our tails and admire their utterly perfect bushiness.

Biography?
I was born in north Wales about 3 years ago. From then till February 2009 it's all blank. I was found wandering the streets in thick snow. I was matted, filthy, flea ridden and covered in sores. I was starving and 3kg under weight but couldn't eat because my mouth was full of ulcers. Then came Lesley, my Guardian Angel, she cleaned me up and took me to a vet who shaved my bits and gave me pills and potions to make me well. She tried to find my owners without success. So she went on to Facebook on the interwebs and asked if anyone could help by giving me a good and loving home where all my wishes and demands would be catered for immediately at the drop of a meow. Within 5 minutes Lesley's friend, Lindsey (a cat lady from birth) said she knew her parents would want me and a week later (on Valentines Day) Lindsey and her fiancé Kerry ( a self confessed cat man) drove from Northampton to North Wales to come and get me. They even stayed in a Travelodge on Valentines night! They must really love me! (little do they know I picked them too with the use of my long distance telekinetic cat power). I settled into my new home very quickly. The resident cat, Lentil, knows I'm the boss, I've put on weight, my butt fur has regrown and I 'm giving orders to the staff. I am Furball and I rock.