Le Quiz Pour You

 

Allo mes amis. Aujourd'hui I 'ave a quiz for you to work out zee little grey cells in your 'ead. N'est ce pas?

Zee first one is eazy to getting you started.

Who painted zees painting in blue? A clue: Zere was a song zat started "Starry, starry night. Paint your palette blue and gray ..." by Don ze McLean about zees artist.

Now anozer zee quiz for you:

OK ... zee grey cells are doing zee working. 'Ere is another question:
 

What eez zees a photo of? Anee idea? A clue ... I took zees photograph zees morning when I waking up ... 

No idea? Eet eez a close-up photo of my ginger cat. Veree close up!

OK ... an eazy one zees time. Write down what do you see in zees picture.

Can you spot ten differences between zees two pictures?

Anozer puzzle to keep zee grey cells zee working ...

Come on people ... do zee thinking ... more thinking in zee interlude ...

Alors mes amis ... you do not know zee answer? Zen stand on your 'ead!

If you got it right, you deserve a banana.

Here is the algebra for those of you more clever than me:

R+C+D=X
R+C=10
R+D=20
D+C=24

D=24-C
R+24-C=20 

R+4=C
R+C=10 

C=10-R

R+4=10-R
2R=6 

R=3

C=10-3=7
D=20-3=17

D+C+R=X
17+7+3=27 KG!

And now a final one to keep the brain working:

Look at zee bus above for a minute or so. Imagine zees bus arrives at a bus stop empty. Once eet eez zere 6 passengers get on. A little later zee bus stops again. 4 passengers get on and 3 get off. Later still zee bus stops and 8 passengers get on and 2 get off. A while further zee bus stops and 6 passengers get on and 1 gets off.

What is the name of the driver?

Stupid animals

 

They say that one thing that distinguish us from animals is that we have opposable thumbs. Opposable thumbs means that our thumb can bend and touch all the other fingers. So we can hold things, small things, we can eat with one hand, and we can do many things animals cannot. There are of course many animals with opposable thumbs, but they cannot touch all their other fingers with their thumbs.

Try picking up a single grain of rice, or lentil, or a KFC leg with your thumb and index finger and tell your dog, "See ... I can do this and you cannot!"

Actually, I think many animals are just not smart, regardless of whether they have opposable thumbs or not. Try teaching your dog to say "Pretty Polly!" You'd be wasting your time. And you don't need any thumbs to say "Pretty Polly!"

When I point to his bed and tell my dog, "Go to bed!" he looks at my finger instead of his sleeping-couch. That is stupid.

He is so stupid he lost three out of five games of chess against me. He can never remember that the bishop moves sideways on the board. That's dumb.

Try teaching a cat to fetch a ball when you throw it in the park. Another waste of time. When I take it off its lead it just runs away. 

We've had our cat since it was a small kitten. It is black, and now rather big. He's as big as a large dog like an Alsatian at least. He eats about two kilos of meat a day and sits there growling.

I took it for a walk once and it climbed up a tree dragging me behind him holding on to his lead. It was a pine type tree and I got cut up and bruised with all the needles and sharp branches. That's a stupid cat indeed.

Some people think that speaking to animals gently and quietly will help teach them. Believe me, it does not seem to work. They are too dumb to understand. 

A friend of mine wanted to prove that animals are really smart and can understand humans. He says, or claims, he was a horse whisperer. He believed he could calm a horse by approaching it slowly and quietly speak to it. He also wanted to be a lion whisperer. An ambition he achieved just a few minutes before his tragic death.

Some animals provide us with food. I've already mentioned KFC. Once at a restaurant I had an elephant steak. It has a taste you'll never forget. 

As a side dish I also had rhinoceros cutlets. When I got out of the restaurant I started head-butting Jeeps and charging at people.

I used to be an amateur dramatic actor. A member of a small troupe who performed locally in various venues.

Being a perfectionist, I liked to dress in full costume beforehand and rehearse my lines in front of a full length mirror.

On one occasion I played the part of one of the mice that turn into horses in the Cinderella story.

So I took my costume home and put it on; then I stood there in front of the mirror looking like a giant mouse.

The cat came in and AHHH!!!! He was totally frightened out of his nine lives. 

He thought one of the many mice he has been chasing in the past had come back for revenge. He climbed madly on top of the wardrobe and would not come down … shaking to death he was.

The dog usually half-asleep in front of the TV woke up suddenly upon hearing the cat’s commotion.

He looked at me and decided there’s no way he’d let a giant mouse usurp his territory. He started growling … I tried to calm him down … but he pounced toppling me onto the ground and biting me in several unmentionable places.

Animals are dumb ... opposable thumbs or not.

Catalogue of disasters

 

Well it all started some years ago when a man from a pet charity came knocking at our door. Can't remember the name of the charity, but he asked me if I would like to sponsor a cat.

I asked him, "What will it do?"

He did not understand, so I explained, "you want me to sponsor a cat, will it run the marathon? Go on a diet and lose weight? Climb a mountain range? Eat broccoli for a year? What will it do?"

He said that it doesn't work like that. This sponsoring method is that I pay a given sum every month and the charity looks after the cat.

"What's in it for me?" I asked, "I seem to be out of pocket in this transaction!"

He said it's a charitable gift, tax deductible, I would get photos of the cat every now and then and a progress report how he is doing. I thought it was a waste of money. I might as well buy a cat. So they sold me a black cat called Snowy.

Unfortunately he was difficult to handle so we exchanged him for a white cat called Rover. Sadly, on a snowy winter he got run over by a snow plough. Perhaps we should have kept the black cat called Snowy instead.

So the charity gave us another cat. A ginger one called Albatross. He was very clever for a feline.

I lived in London at the time. In a tiny apartment.One day my boss said I had to go and work in Glasgow for three months. It was an urgent project and I had to fly there that very evening. There was no one to take care of my Albatross for that length of time so I decided to take it with me. 

There was no time to make any arrangements so I looked on the internet and there's an organisation that can transport animals from one place to another for a fee. They took my cat and said they'll deliver him to me in two days' time.

Two days later, in Glasgow, they delivered a Golden Labrador dog called Pussycat.  

"What the **** is that?" I asked the delivery man who could not put such a big dog through my letter box.

He looked at his delivery note and read, "A ginger cat called Albatross!"

"So?" I asked, "do you see a mistake here perhaps?"

He looked at the dog and said, "he's a bit big for a cat!"

"Of course he's big, he is not a cat," I said holding back my temper, "he is a Golden Labrador, not a damn cat!"

"Do you not want him?" he replied, "he is bigger than a cat, and very friendly. Saves me having to return him to the depot. Besides, this delivery note was in the cage he was in. It says ginger cat named Albatross. So he's definitely yours, look the address is correct as well!"

To cut a long story short, as you have guessed, someone at the depot had mistakenly put the wrong delivery notes on the cages. We got down to his delivery van. It was full of cages with rabbits, hamsters, guinea pigs, parrots, snakes, tortoises and other creatures due for delivery. And, you've guessed it again, all the delivery notes were on the wrong cages. The snake was labelled a parrot, the parrot was labelled a hamster and so on.

We found my ginger cat called Albatross. His delivery note said tortoise called Speedy to be delivered to a totally different address to mine.

I convinced the delivery man to give me my cat in exchange for the Labrador called Pussycat.

A series of mishaps ...

 

I am not superstitious ... well ... maybe I am a little stitious ... but I would not say I am super at it. There are many things you hear about from people but I don't believe or act on all of them.

For example, they say that it is bad luck if you break a mirror. Who are they who say such things? Who started the rumour or the theory that is repeated over and again? If you break a mirror, for instance, someone might step on it and get injured. So it is more than just bad luck. It is a fact that should be acted upon straight-away. The same applies if you break a window, a glass or spill milk for that matter. 

Then there's all this talk about black cats being bad luck. I don't believe that, although I'd take precautions and never walk under a black cat, if I were you.

We have a black cat. He is friendly and a lovely pet. We've been having electric blackouts recently. Just our area not the whole city. The cat gets very upset and mieaows in distress when it's very dark.

In order to get him used to the darkness of the blackouts, I thought I'd teach him to shut his eyes for a while. I sat him in his box, I went down on all fours and stared him closely and shut my eyes for a while, then opened them, then shut them again. The idea was that he would imitate me and shut his eyes. He thought it was a game and he scratched my nose. He drew blood and it hurt quite a bit. For a few days I went round with a big Elastoplast plaster round my nose.

Two days later the cat got run over by a car. He must have been crossing the road with his eyes shut. I had to scrape him off the road with a shovel and I took him to the vet. They said they'll put him together again. No broken bones, a few cuts and bruises, and he'd used one of his nine lives.

A few days after that I went to the vet to collect the cat. They said he was still asleep under the anaesthetic and they put him in a cardboard box for me to take him home. They said he'll awake in about an hour or so and he'll be OK again.

When I got home, I opened the box and it contained a dead hamster. How did my cat turn into a hamster? And a dead one at that?

I rang the vet. It was an answering machine which said, "Your call is valuable to us. Press 1 if you are a new customer. Press 2 if you are an existing customer. Press 3 if you are phoning about your pet. Press 4 if you have a box containing a dead hamster."

How did they know?

I pressed 4. The machine replied, "Your hamster is not dead. He is hibernating. It is a Norwegian hamster and they hibernate in summer, because it is too dark in Scandinavian countries in winter. Their days are mostly nights. They only have an hour or so of daylight. By the time they wake up to prepare breakfast it is time to go to bed again!"

So there I was having a hibernating hamster instead of my cat. I put the phone down and rang again. This time I pressed 2 to indicate I was an existing customer. The machine said, "You can't fool us. You have a hibernating hamster. Just wait until winter and it will wake up again! Have a good day."

Well I wasn't having a good day. I was having a hibernating hamster instead of an anaesthetised cat. So I rang again. This time I pressed 1 pretending to be a new customer and hopefully I'd get some good service from them.

The machine said, "Are you kidding me? We know you have a hamster. Stop phoning us or we'll call the police."

There was no way I could get to the vet by phone. It was too far away to go back to town by bus, or taxi. So I went on-line on their website and sent them an e-mail explaining everything. They replied within seconds saying, "We do not accept e-mails please write a letter in the normal way."

If they don't accept e-mails then why have an e-mail address on their website? 

There was no time to waste. I phoned for a taxi. They drive faster than me. I told the taxi driver, "Quick ... go as fast as you can to this address!"

The taxi rushed away leaving me standing on the side-walk. How stupid is that?

I phoned another taxi. This time I gave the driver instructions once I was in the cab. We got to the vet just on time as they were closing. My cat was awake and happy to see me. We did the exchange and got home just in time to see Tom and Jerry on TV.

NOTE: I have put a photo of a cockerel at the top because I did not have one of a cat, a hamster, or a taxi. Or a phone, or a vet or anything else suitable!

Old Henry

Old Henry was seventy-five years old yet his mind was as keen and sharp as it’s ever been; even though his body slowed him down a little with the usual aches and pains that surprise old folks every morning when they occur in ever new and unexpected places.

He didn’t leave his small cottage very often and spent his time pottering about in the garden or sitting indoors by his radio. He was glad of company every now and then, especially since he lived alone, and he particularly looked forwards to Father Ignatius’ visits every week. The priest would pray a while with him and give him Holy Communion, and then they would spend sometime discussing world affairs and putting things to right.

This week however old Henry was unusually quiet. Father Ignatius wondered if perhaps he was unwell and would not say in case the doctor took him to hospital for a check-up.

“You’re rather quiet today,” said the priest hesitantly, “has nothing happened in the world this week Henry?”

“No … it’s not that …” replied the old man, “it’s Thumper … I found him dead this morning …”

“Oh dear … I’m sorry to hear it …” replied Father Ignatius “It’s so sad when a pet dies … I love my dog Canis and I’d be heart-broken when his turn comes … but … but …” hesitated the priest, “I’ve been visiting you for a while … I never knew you had a dog …”

“Thumper is not a dog …” said old Henry, “he’s a goldfish … or rather he was … I found him floating on the surface of his tank this morning … as dead as a dodo …”

“Oh …” mumbled the puzzled priest.

“I called him Thumper because he thumped his tail on the side of the tank when I fed him … alas … Thumper will thump no more …”

Father Ignatius said nothing imagining for a moment a goldfish thumping its tail against the glass tank wall.

“I plan to bury him in the garden,” said Henry, “just by the rose bush. He’s in that cardboard box there … Will you say a few words with me whilst I bury him?”

It was rather unusual but the kind priest acquiesced. Henry opened the box and showed Father Ignatius a three inches goldfish lying peacefully on its side on a bed of cotton wool.

The two men went out in the garden and Henry placed the open box on a table with the lid beside it.

“I’ll go fetch a spade to dig a hole …” he said as he shuffled slowly towards a shed a few yards away.

Just as Henry was out of sight it happened. It happened so quickly that Father Ignatius had no time to react. He just stood there, frozen on his feet, watching the whole event unfold before his very eyes and unable to do anything to prevent it.

A cat came out of the bushes … jumped on the garden table … picked up the dead fish in its mouth … and hurried away in a flash.

Father Ignatius put the lid back on the box and held it solemnly in his hands. He prayed that the old man would not ask to see his beloved Thumper one last time before committing him to the ground.

Henry returned and started digging a hole by the rose bush. He then took the box from the priest’s hands and laid it in the hole and started covering it with earth he’d just dug up.

Father Ignatius stood silently throughout the whole ceremony, thanking the Good Lord that Henry did not open the empty box one last time.

Henry stood by the tiny grave, head bent slightly down, and finally said “I’ll miss you Thumper … you’ve been a good companion to me all these years … I’ll miss your waggling tail every morning … rest in peace my friend … wherever you are …”

Father Ignatius said “Amen” as the cat came out of the bushes licking its lips in delight.

The two men made their way back into the house.

“Will you get another goldfish Henry?” asked Father Ignatius cautiously as they sat down drinking a cup of tea.

“Nah …” said old Henry, “too much trouble … changing the tank water every few days … I can’t be bothered with a goldfish anymore … I might get a budgie though!”

Father Ignatius smiled as he readied himself to leave.

“You’re a kind old priest … in your funny sort of way …” said Henry as he walked him to the front door.

“How so?” asked Father Ignatius.

Henry smiled as his eyes brightened and he said “I saw that darned neighbor’s cat eat Thumper … and you said nothing … you let me bury an empty box so as not to upset me … that’s very Christian of you if I may say so …”

Father Ignatius said nothing his lips half-smiling in nervous appreciation.

“One day I’ll bury that darned cat too … mark my words …” continued old Henry.

Cat Advice Required

I think the cartoon above explains it all. We have a lot of cats visiting our garden as if they own it; and I am getting fed up with it.

The cats belong to neighbours from all around who let their cats wander wherever they wish, but mostly in our garden it seems. I've tried talking to them gently, the neighbours that is, not the cats, but I might as well be talking to the cats for all the good it did. The neighbours replied politely that cats are free creatures who like to roam wherever they wish and it is their right (the neighbours) to let them go wherever they wish. I argued that the rhinoceros is also a free creature who likes to roam freely and if I had one as a pet and it went through the garden fence, or rushed and head-butted their Jeep (or other off-road vehicle) as you see on TV, they'd soon have something to say about it. Somehow, this argument did not seem to gain traction with any of them.

What I find particularly irritating is when I open the window in the morning and there in the garden is a cat sitting comfortably, smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee, as if he owned the place. I try to shoo him away and he doesn't move, and looks at me as if thinking "Why is this idiot waving his hands in the air for?"

What is worse is when they leave their deposits all over the lawn. They say that cats always bury their deposits; well I tell you this is not true. Even if I leave a spade nearby in the garden to give them a hint, they take no notice. They leave their poos on the lawn and walk away happily expecting me to clean it up. It is worse when I miss a poo and it gets caught in the lawn-mower and flies in the air in a million pieces. What would happen, I wonder, if I went in the neighbour's garden and left my poo on their lawn? They'd soon have something to say about it, I tell you.

We've tried all sort of things to get rid of the cats. We bought little silhouettes of cats which you place in the garden to frighten any visitors. This did not work. We tried pellets which are meant to smell bad and get rid of cats. That did not work either. We tried electronic devices that sense a cat nearby and either let off a sound or a spay of water and that did not work either. Nothing seems to work.

Eventually I invented a cat trap on a spring. It's a platform on which I place some food. When the cat goes for it; it triggers the trap and the cat flies through the air into the neighbour's garden.

That did not work either on two counts - no, three counts.

1 When it has been triggered, I have to go out again and set it all over once more.

2 The cats enjoy flying through the air and they have invited all their friends to come and try it. Now we have even more cats visiting us.

3 The mother-in-law stepped on it and she flew in the air and got wedged between two branches of a nearby tree. It was embarrassing with her dress flying in the air revealing her enormous underwear. It took the fire brigade people over an hour to dislodge her and bring her down again.

So there you have it. We have cats visiting our garden leaving their deposits all over the place and we can't get rid of them. (The cats, not the deposits).

Any ideas anyone?

DISCLAIMER - No animals or humans have been harmed in the writing of this Blog. It all happened in the writer's imagination.

The mother-in-law was brought down to terra firma safely although one fireman had a slightly bruised shoulder in the process.