The Tale of Boris and the Cat-Flap

Today we’ve returned to our more usual view. Better for the soul I think, well, mine at least!

The view

Now here’s a funny thing. A week or so ago, I promised to tell you the tale of Boris and the cat-flap. However, when I was beginning my ‘Glasgow’ post yesterday, I noticed that the cat-flap story was still only in draft form! Presumably I’d had a head full of feathers that day! So, I shall endeavour once more to tell you The Tale of Boris and the Cat-Flap! I have no photographs of this incident, so the tale is illustrated in a less technical fashion!

Some early followers of Garybuie’s blog may remember Boris. He was getting on in years when we brought him to Skye and resembled a cuddly, well-worn pyjama case! He had been a stray and as a consequence, his main concern was where his next meal was coming from. Even though he had a new home and plenty to eat, his enduring hobby was theft of neighbours’ cats’ food. When we moved to Skye there were fewer neighbouring cats – as well as longer distances to reach them – but he still retained his cat-burglar status, as well a stealing from Hamie and Wallace when they arrived on the scene. NOT a slim cat!


Several years ago, I was awakened pre-dawn by some fairly loud, irregular thumping noises. I lay for a while trying to decide what could possibly be causing it. Kevin was fast asleep and it seemed a shame to wake him. Did I dare deal with this noisy intruder alone? What if it was someone noisily filling his swag-bag with our treasured possessions? I dismissed that idea as such incidents are virtually unheard of on Skye. That thought made me feel somewhat braver. What if it was some kind of wild, highland beast beating up our feline friends? An illusive Haggis perhaps? Either way, I had to get up and deal with this seemingly clog-dancing thug and rescue the cats. The thudding continued as I crept down the hall and opened the door into the dining room. There, sitting stock-still with a look of sheer bewilderment on her face was Hamie!

surprised cat!

She was transfixed by what she was witnessing through the door to the sitting-room. The intruder had apparently not heard my approach, which was hardly surprising with all the noise he was making! Creeping forward slowly to join Hamie, I too stood stock-still when I saw the culprit! Then I laughed! (Well, we both did!) There, in the middle of the sitting-room floor was Boris who appeared to be wearing some kind of ill-fitting, Edwardian corset! He sat there, defeated and on closer inspection it turned out that the corset was in fact the cat-flap!

Boris + catflap

His face was a picture, a cross between total resignation and a look that said, ” Well DO something instead of laughing at a chap’s predicament!” I just picked him up using the top lip of the flap and he just slithered out in an undignified heap! He was NOT amused! (Of course Hamie and I were!)

It would seem that the cat-flap had eventually become too tight for Boris’s expanding girth, finally giving up and removing itself from the door along with its feline captive. Presumably, all the thumping sounds had been Boris rolling around trying to escape the clutches of this new, unwanted plastic peril!

So THAT’S why we had a spare cat-flap to use on the old church door!


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