Loving The View; The Cleo And Tibbs Story

Chapter 8

Mojo Comes Back

After being in the doghouse for a number of days, I totally lost my mojo.  The smooth which normally flows so easily was lost.  The stylish quips were nowhere to be found.  It became a struggle to tweet.  How was I to continue to woo the ever-lovely Cleo, if I could not ferret out the words to impress her?

Then, once, again SassyCassyCat broke the block.  Her sweetness inspires me to great heights.  ‘Sweetness, not only do I wish you the best, my hope is for your light to shine on the whole wide world.  Mr. Tibbs, *feeling the love again*

This led to a campaign that was infused with illumination.  I sent a lovely photo, of myself with my big belly, front and centre, to my Queen and wrote, ‘Here’s another one for you, my temptress.  Mr. Tibbs, *giving away wishes with a rub of the belly. What do you wish for, my Love?*

Her answer thrilled me.  ‘To be in Canada with you’

‘Oh my Queen, I’m going to rub my own belly for that wish to come true. Mr. Tibbs, *rolls around giggling. It tickles*’. This is the sort of twaddle that I have built my reputation on. It works and came gushing out of me like I was a love-starved Catanova.

Returning to my normal, suave and sophisticated, self, I offered to take my Lady love dancing.  As most know, exercise is not my thing but the ladies enjoy tripping the light fantastic and I was more than willing to commence salsa lessons for my Queen.  The offer was on the table now.  Once again, I lucked out.

Cleo claimed to have ‘two left paws’ and was not the best dancer.  I answered with, ‘That’s okay, all four of my paws are ‘left’ when it comes to dancing.  We shall not be competing on ‘Dancing With The Paws’ any time soon.’  Too much physical activity is for the birds, anyway.

Then an unfortunate incident occurred.  A nameless Twitterite had the ill grace to disparage my behemothness.  I was not offended by the remarks but all the lovelies, I flirt with, leapt to my defence.

The result; this poor person got blocked.  It brought an emotional tear to my eye.  I was truly forgiven for my wayward behaviour.

To show my appreciation, I offered all of my feline friends (and some humans) a membership into #TibbsysAngels.  If they were going to come to my rescue, I wanted them to understand just how special they are to me.

Not that I play favourites, you understand, but all of them do recognize that Cleopatra has to be my #1 Angel.

With my mojo, well and truly ensconced, the subject of marriage kept coming to the forefront of many tweets.  While this topic both thrilled and frightened me, I hoped to sidestep the matter completely.


Next Chapter: Avoiding The Issue


Loving The View: The Cleo And Tibbs Story

Chapter 7

The Aftermath


Once my horrendous behaviour subsided, apologizing became a way of life.  It seemed like every tweet I sent to my beloved contained the words, ‘I’m sorry’ or phrases to that effect.  ‘I’m crestfallen, my Queen.  If you were to say, ‘off with his head’, I would gladly stretch my neck out.  I apologize for my wicked conduct.’

A perfect example of the grovelling which I was prepared to endure.  It felt as if I had been sent to the doghouse which is no place for a cat to hang out.

The reason for this humble conduct was, despite my Queen’s generous and lenient nature I could not believe, she (nor anyone, for that matter) could be so forgiving.  What kind of angel had I got myself mixed up with?  Do such heavenly bodies exist in this day and age?  Apparently, they do in Cheshire.

To say my actions were embarrassing was the understatement of the century.  How could I possibly make things up to this beautiful, young British Short Hair?

Having plenty of time to ponder the situation, as the chatter I had previously enjoyed on Twitter was conspicuous by its absence.  In other words, I was receiving ‘tumbleweeds’; ‘crickets’, dare I say it, the silent treatment.  Not that I blame anyone for deserting me.  The sparkling wit which is usually so evident, hotfooted it and I was left an empty shell.  (Okay, not so empty as I continued to gobble up all the food.)

The only one who had not forsaken me was my love, my destiny, the greatest, sweetest kitty on this planet, my Queen Cleopatra.  I may be exaggerating here but all I had left was my catfriend.  So, the decision to pour my heart, soul and whatever talent I still possessed into making amends, was an easy call.  She would be the main focus.

Taking my punishment like a Tom humbled this, once, popular kitty.  ‘From now on, I promise you only fun.’  I offered my Queen.  I had come up with a clumsy solution to weedle my way back into her heart.  Deciding on a self-imposed exile from reviews of any kind, I would concentrate on my Lady Love.  ‘Be prepare to receive love letters from now on, my Queen.’ I submitted.

‘Looking forward to it.’  She responded in the positive.  There is no malevolence in this Angel, whatsoever.  She is pure love.

For the next week, I plied Cleopatra with verse.  Everyday contained a new poem.

‘Another dawn has broken                                                                                                             The sun rises in the sky                                                                                                            ‘Meow’ my Queen has spoken                                                                                       Enamoured, need some pie

Mr. Tibbs, 😽🌹😻’

Another of the better masterpieces was,


I lost my way and you were there                                                                                                    A sanctuary for my soul                                                                                                         Without you, I cannot bear                                                                                                             My great, big heart you stole

😽🌹😻  Yours,

Mr. Tibbs.’

I must say, the lovely Cleopatra motivates a tremendous amount of heart-felt emotion from this lovesick Tom.  Even I have to admit to being surprised at the depth of my inner feelings.

I do believe the best one was,


My heart, my soul my destiny                                                                                                          To your bosom I will cleave                                                                                                   Because your love has set me free                                                                                                I’ve got back my joie de vivre

Mr. Tibbs, 😽🌹😻’

While inundating, the lovely Cleo with these poems, took it out of me and the rest of my tweets suffered.  It seemed no matter how hard I tried, coming up with any smooth lines for my returning and adorable fur friends had vamoosed.  I had lost my mojo.  What could I do?  A sweet-talking Tom without words is a mum bum.  I needed something to reinstate my savvy way with words.


Next Chapter: Will Tibbs get his mojo back?

Loving The View: The Cleo And Tibbs Story

Chapter 6

From Bad To Worse

Things were looking up.  I was on my way to getting the marriage annulled (with the help of Lord Graydon who happened to know of a good lawyer, Bella Bassett.)  Turns out the female that had hoodwinked me into marriage was not even a cat at all but a rabbit!  Bella came up with a brilliant defence (temporary blindness) and I was well out of it.

The euphoria took over and when next tweeting with my Queen I got carried away, ‘I’m truly humbled by your generous nature, Babe.  There’s no one in the world I’d rather . . . Oh, stuff it!  Will you marry me?’

I’m embarrassed to admit it but this next bit of the story is where I come off looking like a total jerk.  I was fraught with anticipation for her answer.

My Queen, of course, could not have been more gracious or level-headed.  She suggested I take some time to think over my wayward proposal.

Being the hot-headed (and in my eyes, jilted) lover, I flew off the handle.  I believed the feline I had given my heart to, had rejected me.  Full stop.  ‘Obviously, my bad behaviour is not forgiven.  *sniffs loudly*  I’ll carry a torch for you always, my Queen.  But I understand.  Tibbs *out*.

I was desvastated.  Imagine if you will, plucking up the courage to ask your love to marry you and to give up flirting for that love, only to be told you are acting rashky.  I would never relinquish my dailliances lightly.

‘Too late.  I’m moving on. Thanks for the laughs, Babe.  Mr. Tibbs, *putting on a grave front* *hurt beyond repair*’.  I shot back when she tried to explain.  This was my cold-hearted response and I was stubbornly sticking to it.

‘Nooooo! Tibbs . . .’  My Queen pleaded.

Try as she might to elucidate, I was obstinate and unwilling to listen.  This led to a quick campaign to replace her.  (As if that were possible).  Others tried to get me to see sense.  The sweet SassyCassyCat did her best to explain the misunderstanding.  I refused to relent.  ‘You’re wrong Sweetness Babe, all is not forgiven and Cleo has spurned me.  I’m crushed.  Mr. Tibbs.’  There is nothing so desperate as a broken-hearted fool.  And fool I was.

I began to flirt with every lady cat I could.  Holly Purr (Sweet Pea, I like to call her), Moët (to my shame I asked about her sisfur, Luna) and Cleo,Love (Cleo, my love, who is a fantastic friend); all of them were subject to my painful rejection.  Luckily, they could see my pathetic behaviour for what it was; excruciating, disreputable conduct born of a failure to understand.

Then the green-eyed monster hit, as Cleopatra complimented the adorable Lord Graydon.  ‘I hope Cleo and you will be happy together.  Tibbs, *wipes tears away*.  I did not mean any of it.

‘LG is my BSH friend and that’s all’. Cleo insisted.

I was having none of it.  My tirade continued until my pal, Basil finally had become fed up.   He tweeted a stern, ‘Enough of this! Cleo says she loves you.  Be happy with that!’

‘Bas, I asked her to marry me, she told me to take a hike.  My world has fallen apart.  I may need professional help.  Mr. Tibbs, *floundering*

‘Prove it.  She did not reject you.’  Basil shot back.

The harsh words stunned me.  Was it true?  Had I been over-reacting this whole time?

I swallowed my pride and asked, ‘Cleo, the others are telling me you did not rebuff my proposal, is this true? Have I been a total bounder?’  To be honest, making up with her was uppermost in my mind.  I did not want a future without her.

‘I wanted you to take things slowly and not make any hasty decisions.’  She answered truthfully.

She was thinking of me and my well being.  I felt like a heel.  ‘I’m a lout.  A cad.  Oh Cleo, I’ve been acting in such a churlish manner all day.  I’m ashamed.  Wouldn’t blame you if you chucked me for good. Mr. Tibbs.’


Next Chapter: Will this Angel forgive me?

That’s Mine


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Cat’s have this inate ability to take possession of everything within paw’s reach.  Wherever they plant themselves, be it on the table, on your desk or on the sofa next to the remote.  As soon as one attempts to retrieve an item next to them, a lightning quick paw will shoot out and grab at said item.

Even if it is something they have shunned, a moment ago.  No one gets a hold of their stuff.  If the humans get scratched for their rude behaviour, so be it.  Comes with the territory of being owned by a cat.

When a feline has the attitude of ‘that’s mine’, you better believe whatever has been claimed, is well and truly theirs.

Loving The View: The Cleo And Tibbs Story

Chapter 5

Tibbs Is A Cad

Once I had recovered from the festival, it occurred to me that there had not been any communication from my Queen.  She had not been a part of the award show nor had there been any tweets from her over the weekend.  Most unusual.

Feeling extremely vulnerable, I was frightened in case some Julius Caesar had stolen Cleopatra from her Mark Antony.  After discussing the scenario with SassyCassyCat, I took it upon myself to go on a quest in search of my love. Wouldn’t you know it, as soon as I left, the lovely Cleo got on Twitter again.  It was too late!  I had gone off and there was no way to contact me.

The next part is the saddest tale I have ever written.  I penned this letter of my adventure as soon as I returned.  Read it at your own risk but be prepared to shed bucket loads of tears.  It is a heartbreaking saga:

‘For Cleo.  My heart aches.

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.  (So long as that did not involve any actual bodily harm.)

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 tomcat. 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 was 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’

Needless to say, when I returned home I was a torn Tom.  On the one hand, I was ecstatic that my Queen was safe and sound.  It filled me with such joy . . . Yet, knowing I was to break her heart left me desvastated.

I could not explain to her my tale of woe, face to face so decided to write about the horrendous experience.  Cleopatra was distraught.  An understandable reaction, of course.  Who wouldn’t be rattled when told the love of their lives has gone off and married another?  I had acted in a scandalous manner and would pay the price.  What else could I do?

Then a beacon of light appeared.  After the others had read about my broken-hearted blunder, they convinced me that I had been duped.  Tricked into a hasty marriage by a conniving female.  Oh the guilt!  Oh the dishonour!  Oh wait a minute . . .  I might get out of this.

Next chapter:  From Bad To Worse

Loving The View: The Cleo And Tibbs Story

Chapter 4


Just as the relationship began to get off the ground, I had to rein things in.  Not because of anything she did, or me for that matter.  I had an exciting surprise for everyone on Twitter.

‘May have to put our romance on hold, for a while, my Queen.  Exciting news.  Shall I tell you about it?’ I asked.

Of course, she wanted to know, what I had planned.

If I haven’t mentioned this before, I have a career as a film critic.  Reviewing video’s and shows on Periscope is my life’s purpose.  As such, it occurred that to me to take things to the next level and host a film festival.  I called it Mr Tibbs International Film Festival.  #MTIFF.

Critiquing movies is hard work and in order to do my best, I had to place all my focus on the job at hand.  Cleo, my Queen, would have to wait.  I could, only, hope she would understand.

#MTIFF was to last for ten days. 17 June – 27 June 2017 (despite the fact I started it a day early).  Every time a video was submitted, I gave it an honest review.  My Queen was very impressed with the whole venture.  Her love and encouragement filled me with pride.

Watching 60-plus videos and writing critiques for them all left me with a limited time to pursue my other love.  Being a bit of a flatterer, I took it upon myself to indulge in this past time and managed to communicate with my ladylove as well as trifle with the others.

The hardest part about #MTIFF was picking a winner.  All the films were special and all the hard work of the stars (and their directors) warranted my utmost attention.  It was nearly impossible to choose just one.  Yet, I promised them a winner which meant I had to deliver.  For three days and nights, I poured over all the videos, painfully eliminating one flick after another until I had narrowed it down to three strong contenders.

Thinking about the inevitable winner’s announcement, I had an absolute inspired idea.  I would need, my pal, Basil to help.  He’s a cool cat and he agreed to broadcast the award show, live on The Basil Show.  (He’s the star of his own show on Periscope)

It was all arranged and the winner was declared on 1 July 2017.  Donald won #MTIFF for his movie entitled ‘The Heist’.  A well-deserved win.  A rollicking romp which has Donald portraying a cat burglar to perfection.

Basil was a riot during the award show.  He was most uncooperative with his Mum.  (She probably did not let him play with his favourite toy!).  But Basil is always highly entertaining even when he’s being ornery.

#MTIFF was a roaring success!  All that was left to do was to send Donald his trophy (I had my Mom do that).  I was exhausted.


Next time: Tibbs has an unfortunate episode with a rabbit.



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There is nothing as satisfying as having a feline sitting at your feet and look up with such a loving face.  You think to yourself, ‘Yes, this is what being a pet owner is all about.’  Having the adoration thrust upon you can be heady stuff.

To return the love, you decide treats are in order.  You get up to retrieve said item and return to your cat-filled seat.  As they are the dominant being, not even their favourite treats will coax them from your chair.  They will not budge!

‘You snooze, you lose!’ 😹

Loving The View: The Cleo And Tibbs Story

Chapter 3

Tibbs Is Smitten


A tweet full of kisses came in (I believe it was from Angel and Kobe).  Not being sure who was inundating me with such a display, I asked, ‘Who exactly is throwing their lips my way?  Just wondering? *puckering up*’.

I was more than willing to comply with the innuendo, despite the fact that I did not know who wanted to shower such unadulterated affection towards me.  Receiving unnamed kisses was something I was happy to entertain.

My Queen answered back, ‘Pucker up buttercup.’

Well!!  The brazen hussy!  ‘Cleo, my Queen . . . ‘  Impressed with her bold statement, I straightened my tie and went in for a kiss.  (Don’t really wear a tie but I was painting a word picture).  ‘💋💋💋💋. *got carried away there*.  Mr. Tibbs, *love machine*  Hee Hee.’   This was my kind of kitty.  My heart began to go pitter-patter.

Twitter can be so unreliable sometimes and as soon as she saw the tweet, (which happened to be the next day) she got back to me.  ‘OMC. I have just seen this, nearly missed a kiss from my sweetheart.  Sending kisses back atcha.’  Oh the joy.  Oh the bliss.  Our torrid love affair had truly taken on a life of its own.

Knowing the ways of the social media giant I offered, ‘Not to worry Cleo, my Queen.  I keep losing your tweets too.  Even Twitter will never tear us asunder.  *assume there’s 💋 for you everyday.*  She does inspire me to a romance filled vocabulary.

‘Ohhh Fank mew. Each day will be pawsome with a kiss from mew, my sweet Tibbsey’.  Her adorable nature comes through loud and clear, does it not?

I answered, ‘You, my Queen, make me feel like the luckiest Tom on earth.  Could Chapter 3 be filled with 💋💋💋💋💋💋’s?’  This electrifying section of our story was born amid a myriad of loose lips.

The fondness I felt for this plucky British Short Hair made me realize she could not keep calling me Mr. Tibbs.  We had, after all, become quite close.  Discussions of litter box issues and now throwing 💋, we had grown far too chummy to remain so formal.  I decided the best course of action was to dub myself with a Christian name.  Something, only she could call me.  Can you guess what moniker I chose for myself?

Yes, that’s right, I selected the name Mark Antony.  It seemed fitting.  The giggles that emanated from Cleopatra confirmed my grand gesture was a hit.  Bringing forth such merriment engenders my heart to soar with giddiness.  Our destinies were truly set and I was, indeed, smitten.

Next chapter; The excitement of MTIFF.  Stay tuned.

The Pen Is Mightier: NOT


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Every time a pen is picked up, the cat will attempt to help.  There is no rhyme or reason for it.  They cannot take the ballpoint in hand (no thumbs).  Yet, cats have an inborn need to rub their faces against any writing instrument.

The fact that they will push at the pen while one is writing is fun and games to them.  Whether you are able to read what you have written afterwards means nothing.  The important thing is to grab a hold of the pen and gnaw on it if possible.

Why the obsession?  No one knows.  They say the pen is mightier than the sword but a cat trumps both!