Tag Archives: Oscar

A New Kitten = Trumps Everything

I would like to discuss Donald Trump.

Actually no, I’d much rather talk about our new kitten.

We didn’t think we would get another one.

The wonderful Oscar was with us for nearly 15 years, travelling around the world with us.
Part of the family. Until last October. You can read about that very ordinary Thursday here.
Oscar was always going to be a very hard act to follow. My wife and I resisted for a year.
We just couldn’t do it, but we have.

Lilli the kitten arrived a few weeks ago, very coincidentally on the same date Oscar died.
She has rather large paws to fill, though she is not a replacement and of course she is her own cat. She is quickly proving that. Apparently she was the “shy, reserved one”. Hardly.

It’s a long time since we had a kitten in the house, you forget what it’s like…

*Having to look down when you carry a cup of coffee as she likes to wrap herself around / sprint between your feet like a little silent furry ninja.

*The intense interest in anything happening in the kitchen. The reaching up, pawing at legs in an attempt to get some of whatever is on offer. “It’s yoghurt. You’re a cat, you don’t eat yoghurt.”

*Seemingly dematerialising then rematerialising in another room like a Star Trek episode. Sometimes it’s like there are three of them.

*The rescuing of cat toys from under lounges. I keep being “dragged” away from working to extricate a trapped cat toy from the very middle of under the lounge. A pitiful squeak – Lilli appears to squeak rather than miaow, sounding in desperate need of WD40. The squeak leads me to a rather forlorn little thing peering anxiously at the dark abyss under the lounge / chair / bed, basically anything that is the perfect size for a cat toy. The foil crunchy shiny mice / ball things being the toy du jour.

*The amusement of looking at her discovering herself in the mirror.

*The psychotic sprinting after she uses her kitty litter tray. I’ve always thought it would be amusing if humans did that.

*The pushing the boundaries – using the dining table as a shortcut, delicately pirouetting around photos on the sideboard. That is being strongly discouraged as we speak. A stern “No”, distracting her with said crunchy shiny mice / ball things. Then she turns THAT face on, and is back on the dining table. Repeat.

*The overall outrageous cuteness of a young kitten, the tractor-esque purring, the random sleeping in what are extremely uncomfortable locations, when there are at least 47 far more comfortable spots.

*The general craziness of rampaging through the house for no apparent reason. Seeing an imaginary something on the ground, then taking off with a very strange un-kitten like sound.

*The ignoring of expensive cat toys, happy to spend half an hour in an empty carboard box.

*You forget how small and low to the ground kittens are compared to adult cats. There are numerous unsuccessful attempts daily of Donald Trump style pussy-grabbing.

I wrote about Oscar sitting in my wife’s his chair while I working, Lilli has now discovered the same chair, she looks quite at home. It’s nice having that chair occupied. That Coldplay song isn’t quite as sad.

Welcome Lilli, it’s wonderful to hear the crazed scampering of paws in our home.
Oscar was quite the furry ratbag, and you’re shaping up extremely well in that department…

©Steve Williams 2016

*This piece also appeared in The Huffington Post Australia: This New Arrival Trumps Everything

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An open letter to Hugh Jackman

Dear Hugh,

Ok, I get it… you’re an outrageously talented, actor, singer and dancer, Hollywood, Broadway and TV über-star.

The ugliest photo I could find (courtesy paulcush.com)





















You are an incredibly devoted husband to Deborra-Lee and loving father to Oscar and Ava. A generous philanthropist, you support and raise awareness of numerous charities and community projects. You’ve been voted the “Sexiest Man Alive”.

Your mantelpiece is groaning under the weight of awards including an Emmy and two Tony awards, as well as Theatre World, Broadway Audience, New York International Independent Film & Video Festival, Australian Film Institute, Film Critics Circle of Australia, People’s Choice, Teen Choice and Scream awards and now a Golden Globe. You might be adding to the collection with an Oscar.

You’ve hosted the Oscars and Tony Awards to critical acclaim. You’ve played (in no particular order) characters as diverse as Wolverine, Jean Valjean, The Easter Bunny, Van Helsing, The DroverCurly, Peter Allen and even a bloody penguin — and that’s just off the top of my head. You love footy, play the piano, guitar, violin and practice yoga. (UPDATE: as Geoff Thomson — another great cricket name — rightly says below, our Hugh can also “play cricket and face Warnie in the nets.”)

The perennial nice guy, your dazzling personality and laconic Australian humour shine through in every interview and appearance. Everyone loves you, there are no skeletons in your closet, you don’t try and run over paparazzi or throw phones at hotel staff.

I hope you realise just how much you make all us other Aussie blokes feel totally worthless and inadequate. Congratulations on the Golden Globe, you bastard.


Steve Williams

©Steve Williams 2012

*This piece was published in the sadly now defunct The Punch by news.com.au


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