The Dinner

I'm making dinner, or trying really. I cannot physically touch the fridge without Charlie coming too. He might not know much, but by god, that fat cat knows where food comes from.
Chicken, turkey, cheese, yoghurt... all favorites. But anything will do. Carrots?... he wants some. Soy milk?... wants it. Olive oil from the cupboard?... gotta be for him.  Salt?.. mmm yes please. Seriously this cat must think anything and everything is for him. The howling and yowling begins and he runs rings around my feet (secretly trying to kill me?) and most of the time you just give him some even when its a tomato, just to make him shut the hell up!!! Funnily enough, he actually eats more than he turns his nose up at. Aiding and abetting? I think so. But you try saying no and see how you go.

New couch

You guessed it, I've got a new couch! Second hand from extended family, my patents dropped it off in their trailer for me. Exactly 2 minutes after they leave... It starts.
The scratching!!!!!! According to Charlie that is what any new fabric item must be for. I had to protect the couch like it was my newborn. Yelling at any of the cats that came near to sniff and snuff and scratch.
When I got sick of being on watch (approximately 15minutes later) I did one of my favorite things. I googled a solution. So, i mixed a spray bottle with half white vinegar and half water and sprayed the scratchable areas of the fabric as googled instructions said... And it bloody worked! Apparently they scratch the fabric, get traces of vinegar on their paws and then when they wash their paws it tastes disgusting so they stop touching the fabric.
All it took to solve my problem was to make my house smell like a fish and chip shop for three hours. Amazing.

The storm

Typical melbourne! After a lovely day of sunning ourselves in the courtyard and hanging all our washing on the line, a huge storm comes out of nowhere.
The activities of the day include keeping Celeste from a)getting on the roof, and b) simply trying to make sure she doesn't fall off the fence in her attempts to reach the roof.  A worrying but amusingly common occurence.
With whiskers the length of many girl's hair, you'd expect her to have more balance than normal, yes? No. Not even slightly. She must have missed that boat.
If there is a day that she doesn't stand on the top of a fence and wobble from side to side, losing her footing and awkwardly trying to turn around without a stiff breeze pushing her off into oblivion (read: the neighbours garden "cat-paradise") then I surely haven't seen it yet.
After her wild-eyed rescue from the 4-inch wide gap between next doors fence and the brick wall of our garage a few months ago, she was banned from outside activities for quite a good while. So far she has avoided that part of the fence. Surprise, surprise, shes learning. Only took three seperate rescues.

The beginning

My housemate is yelling at one of our cats. At the top of her lungs. At 5.19am.... this is pretty standard. I've also been awake for hours googling useless information. Also pretty standard.
Our house consists of Me; a beauty therapist studying psychology. My housemate, Josephine; a beauty therapist studying nursing. And three cats.
Celeste - The multicoloured ditzy one. Mine. Possible mental retardation.
Charlie - The black fat one. Josie's. Lover not a fighter.
Eli - The quiet grey one. Semi-permanently adopted from Josie's sister. Has a gas problem.