I never thought for an instant that the genteel, ginger kitten – all purr and cuddley, could turn into well…an emperor. There was nothing in his early life to suggest it. He used the bedpost as a teething post, was quiet and polite, and deferred to the other animals in the house – Digby the dog and Pippin, the Senior Cat. It was Pip who had precedence at the food tray, Pip who had his special place on the sofa. Life was gentle and predictable until Pip died. He was 16 years old and a shadow of his former imperious self. I must be honest and admit that Simpkin waited untilPip had made his final Visit to Uncle.
But then things started to change. The modest Heir Apparent took over the throne. Diplomatic relations were cut. Pip and Digby were quite good chums – they even shared a pet carrier when they went to the vet, but Simpkin in his pomp ignored the dog, and the dog (who is a mild mannered soul) ignored him.
And then there was the food. Simpkin has always been a good trencher cat. He’s a big lad, as you can see, and he needs plenty of CattyGunge to keep the fires burning. But he’s eating seven or eight sachets of GunkForCats every day. The vet says it’s all to do with his metabolism, in which case the Boy Simpkin is running at about 2000rpm
Then he started doing parkour. To be fair, Simpkin only did it at night in the passageway – thumping and crashing as he hurled himself from one wall to the other.
But the thing which surprises me more than anything is this – he thinks he’s human. He reminds sharing my breakfast – which is a bit of a cheek because he never offers me any of his GunkForCats. And he loves clambering up on tables, chairs, human limbs – anything which will get him on eye level
when he will look up at me with googol eyes and purr like a motorbike on tickover.
He will look up at me with googoo eyes and purr like a motorbike on tickoverTweet