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"Bloody Hell Cathead! . . .wait, . . . CLICKFLASH" went keeper's wee digicamera held to his face as he peered through the tiny viewfinder down at me from the setee.
" Bloody Hell, you've grown some these last couple of days -some real farmyard-fat bruiser of a cat you are now! Must be that Real Mac Coys cat milk you've been supping of late."
I fell back to all fours, looked up and licked my lips in anticipation of more divine cat milk coming both Buffy and my ways. But yes, keeper seems right, I do feel all muscled up and strong since that MAYHEM episode with the dreaded Mr Cool Cat.

Oh yes, you must remember him, from my BREAK IN blog (see my tags ). How can we forget those occult eyes? I just knew there was something weirdweird about him.
And now I know.

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Another piece of the jigsaw fell intoplace with regard to the X Ray back at Dr Animal's place, apparently showing Cathead without a brain ( see VETTED tag blog) Well now that I think about it, I do remember getting a snapshot glimpse of a jet black cat's shimmery bod in a cat carrier, being taken out of the torturer vets as I was being carried in.

I didn't look twice because I was nervous about my forthcoming combat with the new vet. But come to think of it, I had seen those eyes before. Oh yes. It was him alright. And my X ray got confused for his. I have worked that out after reading up on the occult after the MAYHEM last week. So Cool Cat has no brain and this is why. . .

The MAYHEM began last Tuesday morning as I was sat atop the drawers at my post, my tassled cushion, staring unblinkingly out into the street, people watching as usual.

There was that local oddball tall spindly rakish fellow in that sinister ankle-length black leather trenchcoat again, long-striding past, weirdly.

Keeper would comment on him now and again, he is a bit of a loner who dabbles in Kundalini yoga and who has some unusual Scottish forename name, like Leeiach or something; apparently.

He looked abit pale that day did lean mean Leeiach, like he'd been at the dope over the weekend. Only this time he stopped in his tracks right outside the house and turned and stood and stared right in at me.

Our eyes met, I stared back, unblinkingly. He just stood and stood, the wind in the street flapping the bottom of the shiny leather trenchy. . .and stared and stared. I began to feel something was definitely amiss, something unhinged and sssstrange.

Yes, as I remember the scene I feel shivers down my catspine now, and the fur is on end. Those eyes. How odd they were for a human, the whites tinged with yellow and the pupils slitty and black. But how similar to those of Cool Cat, infact. . . .they were the same eyes because they are one and the same being. A dark occult spirit, sent to crush Cathead.

As I stared he de-materialized infront of my very eyes. My fur stood right up on end and I hissed with instinct. About ten minutes later I heard keeper cry from upstairs,

" Buffy Buffy, Come away come away, he's too big for you!"
Keeper came sprinting down the stairs with his ever- present camera swinging violently abouts his person. He rushed out the back and I flew along behind him into the garden. This I see now was the scene keeper had caught a few seconds before . .

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A big black cat -and we know who - had been squaring up to Buffy; they had circled each other very slowly for about five minutes before keeper shouted his warning from the upstairs window. As he took a second picture Buffy fled, luckily for her, for a catfight had seemed certain.
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So I followed a breathless keeper outside. Buffy darted quickly between us back into the kitchen and I just caught the swish and snap of a jet black tail disappearing over the top of our wooden fence and down into Bloater Chop's weed farm on the other side.

" Wait Cathead, he's very big" yelled keeper as I suddenly sprinted forth with a surge of spiritual energy and intuition that I should tackle this trespasser on the spot, before he returned.

As I leaped the fence and flew down the other side, in mid-air infact, I saw the big black chat was sitting right under the fence, in the long grass. So swoop swoop swoop, THUD. I landed right on top of Mr Coolcat himself! He let out one gigantic cat screetch and. . . . . de-materialized on the sopt in exactly the same way as the weird long leather trenchcoated chap Leeiach. I stayed stunned for a while, looking every which way in disbelief, past the weeds and old rubbish discarded over the years by the flabese Bloater Chops. Not a sign of the creepy cat.

Right, I thought, time to do some research.

So that night while keeper was sounders with Dingo in his room, I tippy-toed into the "office" boxroom and booted up the PC. Google treated me to pages and pages of info through which I cat-scrolled with one paw until . . . . . BINGO! There it was.

A record of a case history in the 18th century of a certain Mr Kenneth Brannach of Locharron in the Scottish Highlands, who was thought to have had the occult ability to transform his body into that of a black cat! He also is thought to have had the power of clairvoyance ( clearvision'ence) and the ability to foretell the future. Thousands of people from all over the British Isles had flocked to Locharron at that time to consult him and summon help in predicting future events. Mr Brannach was sentenced to death for witchcraft in 1798, burned alive in a barrel of tar he was. But before he died his last words were. . . .

" I shall return and also as my alterego blackcat, in another life in another time. In those future times I will bring chaos to the world in revenge for this savage fate bestowed upon me. In those days I will be known as The Grey One and will fight with the last remaining force for good in the world in what will become the epic occult battle to end all battles, to save or destroy the soul of the whole universe.

My arch enemy will be a worthy opponent with the spirituality and white powers of an angel incarnate, in the form of a London cat."

That would be little me then, I thought as I calmly read on, about sorcerers' powers in Medeival times. In a strange echo of vampirism, as I read about the Dent vampire of North Yorkshire, was the rare capture of the animal or bird that the magician transmutes into in order to spy on others or to achieve some mystic power. On one such occasion the animal, a Coyote, was dissected after death and was found to have. . . . .no brain!

Mr Cool Cat! He's an occult human in disguise!

And I typed into the search engine several names close-sounding to Leeiach for this leather trenchcoat guy's name. And lo and behold there's Liatach,( pr. Lee aye ach ) a fearsome towering Torridonian sandstone mountain in the northwest Highlands of Scotland, near to Locharron and translated from the Gaelic meaning. . . .. .THE GREY ONE!

Well I nearly fell off keeper's swivel chair at these discoveries. How do I defeat this new threat to Cathead's emerging powers? The powers of darkness are massing to try to stop these amazing gifts that are manifesting through the humble Cathead. Really, I'd rather have a peaceful life, just me, keeper, Dingo and Buff. But it seems I am destined for other things.

As I grow stronger by the hour, bones thickening, feliney muscles tightening, I can justaroundthecorner-sense some godalmighty showdown with trenchcoat man.

Bring it on!

YOW!

CATHEAD
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Ready for destiny