Loving The View: The Cleo And Tibbs Story

Chapter 2



The chatter between Queen Cleopatra and myself began to heat up, big time.  She proceeded to compliment me and my brawny physique, while I fell head over paws for her inner beauty.  She is a true, classic knock-out.

The clincher was a video I sent out of my latest peccadillo.  I have taken to licking my Mom’s ice-filled water bottle.

As the frozen H2O melts, the bottle begins to sweat.  That’s where my strange preoccupation comes into effect.  Lapping up its persperation is delish . . .

Her response to this was, ‘One word – mesmerizing’.

Impressed by the remark I returned, ‘Right then, Chapter 2 of our love story is written, my lady love.  *This is easier than I thought*’.  Obviously, our love story was uppermost on her mind.

Even back then I knew this would be the greatest romance ever told.  More impassioned than ‘Pride and Prejudice’ with the popularity of the Harry Potter series.  And I was, just, the wordsmith to get the masterpiece down on paper to share with the rest of cat-hood.

My Queen found her contribution to the book hilarious claiming, ‘I’m a kitty of few words, my love.’

To which my smooth self replied, ‘You are my Queen.  And only one word is needed between us.  LOVE.  *your big bundle of imperfection*’

I am well aware of my shortcomings nevertheless this does not hinder my Queen from complimenting me.  (Some would class my flirting as a major flaw; not Cleo.)

We had become so close that a rather intimate exchange of tweets commenced, regarding a slight 💩 problem she had encountered and conquered.

‘So happy the Royal backside is behaving itself once again.’ I tweeted.

‘ROTFM, the Royal backside.  Mew do make me giggle Mr. Tibbs’  She lovingly returned.

‘My Queen, sharing the details of your throne/litter box adventures, has me all agog.  *never has 💩 been so fascinating*’.  I honestly replied.

‘Awwww Mr. Tibbs mew funny *giggles* mew are furry sweet indulging my 💩 chatter. #TMI’

Bringing forth her winsome giggles makes my heart soar.  I answered, ‘No one could make Royal 💩 more appealing.  I’m just glad it’s all running smoothly, if you know what I mean.’

Admittedly, this conversation was becoming a tad weird; yet, to speak so confidentially was liberating.  This kitty continued to capture my imagination.  Such honesty and straight shooting (not referencing her 💩 problem here) was refreshing.  The connection between us had just begun.


Next time; A serious step is taken.  Stay tuned for Chapter 3


Paperwork: Cats Against Computers


, , ,

Every cat I know has the self-confidence to believe the world revolves around them.  And quite frankly, they are correct. This realization comes to the forefront whenever paperwork is begun.

Bills to pay, snail mail to open or making a shopping list, the task the human is attempting makes no difference.  It is up to the feline to sort out the mess by walking all over the foolscap and if need be, flopping right on them.

This may annoy the people but that is unimportant to your cat.  They have a job to do and do it they will.  Their assignment is to get in the way and I know of no cat who does not excel at this mission.

And if you think you can outsmart the pet by forgoing paper and using a computer.  Think again!  It is just as easy to plop onto the keyboard!

Cats win!  Every time.

Get The Camera


, , ,

Having photogenic animals is the lot of every pet owner.  Not a week goes by, without them performing some amazing or amusing feat which, us humans, must record for the sake of prosperity.  After all, who would not be impressed by a gorgeous cat/dog or whatever?

Without fail, as soon as the camera comes out to capture the moment, the loving house pet will give a look of ‘get lost’ and move off before any pictures can be taken.  Are they really that smart?  Do they have the control, in the master-slave relationship?  While we may be proud of the genius, that is our cats, they are quite blasé about how adorable they are.  Who is the master?  Who is the slave?

Do your best to be the paparazzi and snap their tomfoolery, chances are you will get a blurry image.  Like a seasoned celebrity, they want paying for their image.  Get the treats out.  Only then will there be any form of cooperation.



, , ,

Firecracker Day comes but once a year.  Or so you would think.  Here in Canada, we have Victoria Day in May and Canada Day, the 1st of July.  Both holidays culminate in filling the night time sky with loud booms and flashes of colour.

We cats, of course, care nothing for an old Queen’s birthday nor when the country was enacted into the Dominion (now country) called Canada.  All we know is, come sunset, a cacophony of thunderous, scary noises saturates the evening with raucous commotion.

You would think that human beings ought to have enough sense not to allow us felines outside on such terrifying nights.  But no.  Out we go.  (Not to point the finger or paw, but they should be immune to the pathetic meowing at the door.)

The whirls, the whistles and crashes send us scurrying for our lives (all nine of them).  And as if this were not horrendous enough, we then have to endure copious abuse for running away and being too frightened to come back inside.  Sometimes, a cat’s life is filled with pandemonium.

Loving The View: The Cleo And Tibbs Story

Dedicated to Tibbs’ Grandma

Chapter 1

And So It Begins

I remember it like it was yesterday.  3 June 2017, the day Cleopatra came into my life for good.  My world changed forever that sunny, summer’s day and is indelibly etched on my heart.

I knew about the Queen, as my sisfur, Patches had had conversations, in the past, with the lovely almond-eyed, grey British Short Hair.  I thought Cleo was an angel.

She graciously swooned over the exploits of Patches and her snake obsession. (Must admit Patches’ daring deeds leaves me reacting in the same way.)  That’s why I knew our two hearts would beat as one.  We were the perfect match.  We are the perfect match.

For those who do not know me, I will disclose a closely guarded secret; I like to flirt.  Some Toms have the gift of cute, fluffiness (Basil; darn him) and some have the British Blue Short Hair thing going on.  Albeit with marshmallow cheeks and a title that adds to the appeal. (Lord Graydon; ‘Big City Tom’)  My particular talent lies in the flattery I lavish on the female felines.  I have to admit, I enjoy dallying with the lady cats.

On the 3rd of June this year, I commenced such behaviour with SassyCassyCat.  She’s a sweet thing and I proceeded to inform her of such.  Just my luck, after numerous attempts to trifle with the kitty, she communicated to me the existence of a fiancé Tomcat.  Not that, that stopped me.  I continued to compliment the lovely Sassy.

This, of course, caught the eye of my Cleo.  She jumped in with, ‘Meow such a smoothy Mr. Tibbs’

How could I resist?  I answered, ‘I be a silver-tongued devil when I choose to be, Cleo, light of my life.  Mr. Tibbs.  *eyes twinkling impishly*.  Then I sent a photo of my hefty self in a loaf pose.  I beguiled her and she in turn stole my heart

As the lovely Sassy was not seriously interested in my patter, Cleo became my main focus.  Although, still flirting with the others such as; Holly Purr and Basil’s cat friend, the lovely Moët.  All these felines (and more every day, I might add) are subject to Tibbs’ piffle.

It cannot be denied though, my Queen is the one for me.  She has indicated that I must continue to sweet-talk any cat that takes my fancy.  How can a Tom not be spellbound by such a creature?

Why, she has set her sights on me, I shall never know?  But make no mistake about it, our destinies are forever intertwined.  The greatest romance, in history, had just begun and like another Cleopatra, a snake played a major role.  This story will not end so tragically as you will see in the subsequent chapters.

Stay tuned.

A Furry Good Book


, , ,

Whenever one sits down to read, without fail, as soon as a book is picked up, a cat will appear at the feet, looking up all innocently.  Do not be fooled by the cunning behaviour.

To ignore the animal is futile.  As soon as the story (text) has begun to get interesting a feline will leap onto the lap, making its presence hard to disregard.  Switching the novel from one hand to the other does no good as a cat-head is forever in the way.  They want you to know, you have made the wrong choice in not focusing on them.

Moving the paperback closer only ends up being an object for the feline to rub its head and/or face against.  This is never conducive to a soothing perusal.  One must get used to reading a moving target.

Their attention is endearing but just once, it would be nice to finish a book without it being covered in cat fur.

Thump! Thump!


, , ,

Any cat poised at a window is a joy to watch.  From the Wimbledon-like head movements; back and forth, back and forth, to their sounds of chirping at the jeering birds

Feline ears begin twitching and moving like a periscope looking for the enemy.  And if the human’s are not paying attention there may be a noticeable ‘Thump! Thump!

Assuming it is some foolish young kid in their car outside, with the music turned up far too loud, you feel about 100 years old.  Then you look at the cat and its tail is rhythmically hitting the carpet.

A Present? For Me?


, , ,

Cats are a generous animal.  They allow you to pet and stroke them.  On their terms, of course.  And they will kindly rub against moving legs as you attempt to walk across the room (usually when carrying something fragile).

They are bighearted enough to keep your seat warm once you vacate it.  So long as you no longer want to return to it.  And they will help with any paper work that must be done, by laying across the stationary.

But most of all, their abundant nature shows itself first thing in the morning when you leap out of bed and nearly step on the remains of a mouse they gave thoughtfully brought for your breakfast.

Could any creature be more charitable?

Mr. Tibbs’ Adventure


, , ,

For Cleo.  My heart aches.

As you know I went off in search of you, my Queen Cleopatra.  I believed you had forsaken me for some nefarious Julius Caesar and was prepared to fight for, my ladylove.

I headed for the woods and fearlessly forged a path through the underbrush.  You know how wide a space that would be.  Meowing ‘Cleo’ deep into the forest, nothing was going to put me off finding you.  Winning your hand was uppermost in my mind.  Yes, I was prepared to pop the question.

With only thoughts of true love, the time flew by and before I knew it, it had grown dark.  Stopping to get my bearings (and rest, you know exercise is not my forte) I meowed a few more time.  To my astonishment I heard a return call.  I lumbered towards the sound believing I had found my Queen.

Stomping over tree trunks, the noises grew louder.  There was a clearing and yes, a plump, odd looking stray lay there chewing some grass.  It was not you, my heart.  But as you know, it is my mission to make every female feel special so I, naturally, went into flirt mode.

“You look lovely this evening, my sweetheart,” I had not lost my smooth.

With it being cool and pitch black now, she suggested we huddle together for warmth.  I, foolishly, relented.

The next morning, with a grumbling tummy, I went in search of sustenance for the both of us.  Returning with an empty hand and stomach (I might add) yet prepared to continue my search for you, my damsel, to my utter shock there were three tiny, wriggling creatures next to her.

She told me, “I was a father!”

Staggering backwards, I nearly ran away.  Until feasting my eyes on those three white and ginger tykes.  How could I abandon them?  I took a sniff and gave them each a few licks and knew I would look after them.  Great sobs escaped me when I remembered you, Cleo.  I had brought shame and disgrace to our love.

After explaining all to my kitten Mama, she insisted we marry right away!

The wedding took place that night and now I am a married man-cat.  We must remain no more than friends.  Our love story has ended at Chapter 5.  It shall read, ‘Tibbs is a cad.’ The End.

I spent the second night away from home, sobbing uncontrollably. Is this how most grooms spend their wedding night?

With great sadness I journeyed home.  Thoughts of food were far from my mind.  That will tell you just how distraught I am over this whole affair.

So, now the story is told.  Cleo, my . . . (sniffs). Cleo, you cannot ever be mine and I shall not ever be yours.  I am a broken Tom.


                                                                                                                                                                                  Mark Antony Tibbs

The Cat’s Meow


, , ,

Have you ever had one of those nights when roaming through your own darkened home, you get a bit creeped out?  Knowing that there is no one about, every scary movie scene you have ever watched plays vividly before your eyes.

Is someone lurking behind that door?  Will you be attacked with your own knives while walking through the kitchen?  Can anyone be living in the walls?

Upon entering the shadowy bedroom and before a light can be turned on, a cat’s pathetic meow can scare the crap out of you!  Welcome to my world!