The cat I had whilst in Oxford, named Thin Cat, died a couple of days ago. I was saddened to hear of it, but not too surprised as she looked pretty tired and old when I took a picture of her last Christmas. She had a right to look tired as she was over twenty years old. A good innings for a cat.

You may be wondering about the name ‘Thin Cat’, yes she really was called that. My family got her at the same time as another Russian Blue kitten and they looked pretty similar, the only difference was that one was slightly smaller and the other was slightly thinner. So they were named Small Cat and Thin Cat. My mother was somewhat embarrassed when she registered these expensive pedigree cats with the vet, she had to give their names and thought the vet would be disdainful of our naming strategy.

Thin Cat was quite social but I was clearly her favourite person; she would usually be found hanging around where I was and loved sitting on me no end. I used to feel I had been particularly favoured by her attentions when she wanted to spend the night asleep on my legs. How could I possibly throw her off me when she loved me so, just for the feeble excuse of me needing sleep?

She did have a close escape earlier in her life. One night she came in through the cat-flap with her face bleeding and covered in cuts. When we looked at her we noticed that she was also missing some teeth: she had clearly been hit by a car. My dear mother was a bit concerned about her and so started looking through the phone book for an all night vet. As she was flicking through the phonebook pages Thin Cat walked over to where I was sitting, jumped up onto my lap, curled up and started purring very loudly. At that point we realised seeing the vet could wait until the next day. The only fall-out from her run-in with the car was that she lost some teeth and this would occasionally make her tongue loll out of one side of her mouth; it looked quite funny.

Small Cat was a much more nervous, neurotic cat, far less friendly than Thin Cat. Indeed, Small Cat was so meek that she was even bullied by my sister’s budgerigar, which would land on her head and bite her ears. Bold budgie! Small Cat hated this but didn’t seem to realise that, as she was a cat, she didn’t have to stand for it and could eat the bird if it was vexing her.

Fast forward to three years ago and the partner and I decide that we want to get a cat. I’ve told the story before, but once we made this decision we acted with speed and efficiency. Within a few minutes we had found a reasonably local breeder of the variety of cat we wanted, the next day we visited her and met the little kitten we would call Kisu. With his big ears and hugely long back legs we thought he was extremely cute and could not resist buying him. Why is he named Kisu? I wanted to follow my historic pet-naming strategy and call him ‘Cat’, but the partner disagreed. He suggested instead that we call him Kisu, which means ‘little cat’ in Finnish (the partner is of Finnish extraction), I approved and his name was settled.

Kisu has grown to be rather large for a ‘little cat’, now weighing almost 6kg, so when he jumps on me whilst I am asleep I generally notice. He is certainly one of the most friendly, well-adjusted and social cats I’ve experienced. He may not always fancy sitting on someone’s lap, but he generally likes to hang around where there are people; he wants to be involved in what is going on in the flat be it eating sushi or appreciating fine ceramics. He may like to hang around with us, but he generally does it in a very relaxed style:

… But he is not as appreciative as a Slow Loris, it seems.

That is one happy-looking animal.

If you've ever owned a cat, you'll know that they like sitting on things. Even if that thing is only a piece of paper on a table, they'll sit on it and be happy. Kisu the cat is currently sitting on a piece of packing foam that has somehow made it into the middle of the floor. He bloody loves it! He doesn't seem to mind that his arse is hanging off it.

Take, for example, my cat: Kisu.

I was given a beautiful thing today, a new Sarah-Jane Selwood vase:

I now own seven pieces by her, and consider myself very fortunate to do so. Kisu the cat likes her stuff too:

Today I sallied forth, braved the rain and picked up this utterly beautiful Sarah-Jane Selwood bowl.

I am very pleased with it. I am also pleased that there are some display cases in the post so the bloody cat doesn't smash it.

The bloody cat broke two Sarah-Jane Selwood ceramics a a week or so back. The little bastard... I mean bad ca.. oh well.... Well, this weekend I went out into Town to look for replacements. At the time I noticed one of the galleries was offering interest-free credit on items over £100, but it didn't really click when I saw a beautiful SJS vase for £470. I can afford £47 a month for ten months whereas I cannot necessarily afford £470 up-front. It is a really amazing piece and it will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine.

Whilst I was on my aborted trip to France and in the bin Kisu was looked after by my dear mother. She took him into the office:

Kisu was in the bin too!

Nice place for a kip:

Yesterday I busted my way out of the bin.

In the morning I asked if it was possible for someone else to turn up with me to my weekly appointment with the psychiatrist only to be breezily told that the weekly appointment had been canceled. It would be two weeks between my seeing the consultant psychiatrist and I was severely harassed by hallucinations. I asked to see another doctor and was told by him that he would see me 'much later', but he would not change the anti-psychotic medication anyway.

It occurred to me that I would be seen by a consultant psychiatrist much sooner than ten days time if I was seen by the loony support service 'in the community'; I resolved to break out of the bin. I needed the doctor to refer me to the home treatment team, so I must wait to see him. Six hours later I still had not been seen by the doctor, so I threatened to walk out of the place, pressing all of the emergency door opening buttons, unless I saw a doctor within ten minutes. Surprise, surprise, one turned up nine minutes later. He referred me to the loony support team and a mere several hours and many lies told to me later I was free.

My suicidal thoughts had been bleached from my mind by the utter horribleness of the loony bin, so I was safe and could convincingly talk my way out. I am still incredibly harassed by hallucinations. The people standing outside screaming abuse at me are a veritable crowd and they still want me dead, and so on. So I still need to see a doctor and get the medication changed.

I am really pleased to be out of the bin. When I came home I was greeted by Kisu the cat who wanted to be picked up and purred loudly. I was surprised by how much I had missed my little cat. I may still barking, but it is great to be out.

I was up at two, but pretended to be asleep for another hour. Three am seems somehow traditional. It'll be the standard kind of morning, fritter away a few hours online before going to back to bed at six, burn myself occasionally, go on IRC and piss everyone off with my whining, write a miserable blog entry...

Oddly, after three hours sleep I don't feel quite as bad as before I went to bed. I haven't been crying uncontrollably yet. Also, the cat isn't tearing around like a mad thing, which is helping me keep slightly calm. Ah well, time to heat up a screwdriver on the hob and hold it against my arm...

And all's not well
In my private circle of hell
I contemplate my navel hair
and slowly slide into despair.

There are times when you just have to give up trying to sleep. The cat is set for the night on my pillow, and for once is leaving plenty of space for my head, but I cannot keep him company. The feeling of being in bed in the dark with all of the rats running over me, the voice telling me I am bad and deserve to suffer and the people outside the flat shouting abuse at me is just too unbearable to be able to stay there.

My left arm is so covered in burns there is nowhere left to burn on it so much to my annoyance I've started burning my right arm. Only the pain and knowledge that I am doing that much damage to myself gives me a moment's clarity and respite from the hallucinations and paranoia. It is literally a moment's break, and the cost is quite high, but I'll pay it for those fleeting seconds of freedom from my insanity.

I'd much rather the drugs worked and kept me sane enough so I didn't have to do this. But at the moment I am still under the psychosis-increasing influence of Trimipramine and not benefiting from its sedative effects. The Trifluoperazine does not seem to be doing anything at the moment, but can take a few more weeks to kick in. So I am self-medicating with severe pain. What a miserable existence.

I was awake (with a little help from the cat, I admit) at four this morning. I had been sleeping a lot better. Waking up early and being unable to get to sleep again is a classic symptom of depression. I'll try to go to bed again soon, but I don't feel like I can sleep.

Of course, it could be because the dose of tranquilisers I was given in hospital has been radically cut on my return home. This is a good thing, those benzodiazepines are really addictive and I want to stop taking them. I was supposed to take a milligramme of clonazepam last night but I only did half that amount as I want to get off them. It is pretty good stuff for dealing with anxiety and calming one down, I have to say, but so addictive.

On a related note, a chum with bipolar disorder was recommended aripiprazole by his doctor. He knew I had been taking it and he knew it stopped me from sleeping. He has problems sleeping himself, so wisely (in my view) declined the offer. He also saved a pile of cash as he is an American chappie and they have to pay for their medication; aripiprazole (aka Abifily) is muy expensivo. I know it doesn't have that effect on everyone, and it really did help with my psychotic symptoms, but no sleep is just unbearable and I just had to stop taking it.

Ah it is nice to sleep in one's own bed. And sleep I did for almost eight hours. I am slightly disappointed the cat didn't come looking for attention in the middle of the night, but it was good to sleep.

Indeed, I may go and try and get a bit more sleep.

I got sent a link to kittenwar.com earlier. It is a nauseatingly cute site. I managed to dally long enough to add two pictures of Kisu, but I fear he'll be outclassed.

When it is bed-time Kisu the normally goes wild and starts running around the flat hunting anything small enough for him to take on. However, after a while he gets bored of this and wants to come and sleep with me, and he wants to sleep on my pillow on Fluffy Bat. If I am in bed he edges as close to my head as he can, taking up even more room if I move away from him, so by the morning he has the entire pillow to himself:

As you can see, there is not much room there for my head. I have to say I am not really sure if Kisu's friendliness in bed would really keep me awake if I were not being kept awake by the medication I am taking, but it does feel a touch strange to be lying in bed only to get a sudden mouthful of cat.

I thought I'd take a picture of Butter demonstrating that it is alright to be in bed in just a nappy and a t-shirt, which I managed to do.

However, whenever one tries to do anything in this flat, including taking a quick picture, Kisu the bloody cat turns up and expects to be the centre of attention.

Kisu cannot even be bothered to wear a nappy to encourage me to wear them. He is a nice little kitten, though, and I don't mind him sleeping on my pillow too much.

In a little over a week Kisu the kitten has made great strides in being badly behaved and climbing up the curtains. He has moved from struggling to get his head to the top of the curtains to this much more impressive result:

He is still a bad cat, though.

We had sushi for dinner last night; the smell of raw fish drove Kisu the kitten wild. We could hardly deny him a few bits of the lesser fish, and the partner even went to the trouble of arranging it sushi-wise. I am not sure Kisu really cared about that, though.

I have a bath or shower every day and use deodorant, but because I wear nappies I have become aware that I have a distinct odour. Luckily, it is nothing that smells bad. I change regularly and clean myself up with baby wipes. These are very highly scented in order to mask the stink that babies manage to generate. Consequently, I smell of Pampers' baby wipes. No one has ever commented on this, but the kitten finds the smell of my fingers after a change to be really interesting.

Kisu the kitten may be generally lovable (when he is not gnawing on fingers) but he likes the curtains just a little too much. He starts to climb them:

Gets half-way up:

Then gets to the top:

Bad cat!

I've been neglecting Butter somewhat over the past couple of weeks; Kisu takes up a lot of time with his demands for attention. I even find it hard to cuddle Butter whilst I am in bed. Kisu likes to sleep next to me in a position that makes it difficult to hold Butter in a comfortable position. I am still deeply attached to Butter, though.

At least he doesn't try to attack my nappies when I am having a change.

Kisu the kitten is very nice, he is friendly most of the time and always likes to be involved with what is going on in the flat. This causes problems when it is time for a nappy change. He finds the plastic tabs on the side of nappies to be fascinating, and he likes to claw and nibble them. It gets worse when he is excited and then he jumps at the nappy as soon as I get one from the nappy box; he wants to kill it. Obviously, such treatment isn't ideal if you wish your nappy to remain water-proof.

Kisu the kitten is now completely at home here. It seems he has two settings, on or off. 'Off' is how he is most of the day, asleep and the most strenuous activity he'll get up to is purring. On the other hand, 'on' is when he tears about the flat, pouncing on things and trying to 'kill' anything smaller than him or claw anything larger than him. Sadly he seems to warm up into this mode just as we are going to bed. At night he soon calms down to join us in bed, but since we have got out of bed this morning he has been wild. I don't fancy picking him up to stroke him as it'll mean gnawed fingers, and those kitten-teeth are very sharp.

Surely it is traditional to have a picture of one's cat on one's homepage?

Kisu has really settled in well. He now thinks he owns the place and should take part in any activity that happens in the flat.

Kisu the kitten was quite nervous when we got him home, he spent about half an hour hiding under the sofa. We coaxed him out after that and he seemed happy enough to be stroked and scratched. He purrs very loudly. He seemed to have relaxed somewhat so we carried him around the flat, since he had only been in one room since his arrival. He liked the bedroom very much and was happy to lie down on and next to us and fall asleep. Obviously, we couldn't spend all afternoon in bed, no matter how cute Kisu is, so we left him asleep on the bed. After a while he started meowing plaintively, so I went back in there. As soon as I sat on the bed he ran up to me, sat down and started purring again. After a while he fell asleep and I left him there again. Somewhat obviously, in a few minutes he started yowling for attention again. I've been in the bedroom a few times now to stroke him, but he seems too nervous to come out of there. I am sure he'll relax in a day or two, until then there'll be three in the bed.

Shortly we will be going to the pet shop to get some cat stuff, then driving to Canterbury to collect Kisu. Hooray!

I slept for five hours last night, so am feeling in good condition to to make the journey. It'll be nice to have our little kitten.

I don't like taking sleeping tablets very often, partly because I don't have that many of them, but mostly because they are hilariously addictive. On too many occasions I've been addicted to sleeping tablets when the doctor has prescribed them for me to take every night. When this happens the nasty thing is that at some point you've got to come off them and this is an utterly horrible experience. Even if you taper the dose over a period of time there will still be far too long when you just don't sleep and feel completely dreadful.

This is why I didn't take sleeping tablets tonight (even after last night's successful sleep experience). So, needless to say, I didn't sleep at all. I pissed the night away on IRC and looking at my picture of Kisu the cat. We pick him up tomorrow, which will be good. It'd be nice if he didn't feel the need to sleep all night and would be happy for some company

The partner is so keen to have the cat that he has taken Friday off work so we can go and collect him then. A whole day early! I have to say I am looking forward to getting Kisu too, he is a real sweetie and it'll be nice to have him at home. Emailing the picture of him around family and friends has yielded three people who said they'd be happy to look after him when we go on holiday. Pretty good!

When we plan something we carry out that plan with speed and efficiency; so meet the new family member:

We will be picking him up next Saturday, but we had a good look at him this evening. He is a Burmese half-breed who is very friendly and good-looking. The fact that he is only half-Burmese makes him a lot cheaper than a pure pedigree. His name is Kisu which means 'pussy' in Finnish. Not 'pussy' in an anatomical feature way, I hasten to add. We will have to go shopping for cat accoutrements this week.