I was wondering which of the many topics I should delve into now that I’m free from the confines of writing strictly about mma. The one I have chosen didn’t spring to mind right away, which is strange as it is been something that has been on-going for six years, or so.

You are probably sat there reading this wondering what’s been happening for 6 years or so that I haven’t mentioned before and there really is no easy way to say this but I believe my cat is trying to kill me. There, I’ve said it.

Now, of course I’m writing this in a light hearted way but that doesn’t mean that the underlying issue isn’t true. Yes it’s funny that a three hundred plus pound MMA fighter (cage fighter) is scared of his cat, actually let’s not say scared as ‘scared’ is too strong a word, let’s go with ‘wary’. Before I justify my wariness for my cat, I feel that I need to explain who the protagonists are in all of this just so you get the clearest and most whole picture in your minds. So who are Me, you and Buggaloo?

So there is ME: James ‘The Colossus’ Thompson,

Now, when I say YOU in the title I obviously don’t mean you! That of course would be silly; I’m taking about my fiancée Graz Merlino aka the Merlean. In this case she goes by the name of you simply because it rhymes with Buggaloo and I like the title.

And then of course last but not least satins little helper, the one the only Buggaloo or if you know him well Bugs‘ but since you don’t know my cat, if you ever bump into him I suggest you address him by his proper name Buggaloo.

Like I said earlier, I write this in a light hearted way but I hasten to add if Buggaloo were to spontaneously grow in the middle of the night to the size of a lion then there is no doubt in my mind that the first thing he would do… is devour me.

Ironically, I was the architect of my own misery; in so much as it was my idea to buy Buggaloo for Merlean. I did so because I was going to start training away from home and I thought a cat would keep her company whilst I was on my travels.
I’m sure Merlean will thank me for making her sound like some lonely, isolated, hermit, devoid of any kind of attention or affection without me but that was my logic behind buying the cat. I mean it wasn’t like a cat would guard the house and keep her safe but the Merlean is a busy lady and a dog is too much ‘trouble’ to look after, where as a cat is pretty self-efficient and can go some way to filling the void I leave behind whilst training away (albeit only a cat shaped one)

So, I looked in the local paper, saw an advert and made my way to the address. When I got there an elderly lady greeted me. I explained why I was after a kitten and assured her I wouldn’t get sick of it and be making it go for a swim in a bag with a couple of bricks any time soon.
I approached the large cardboard box where the kittens were housed to pick out a feline friend for the Merlean. The choice was a simple one because as soon as one of the mini felines locked his little eyes on me he started yelping. He made a bee line straight for me and started pawing at me and so my choice was made.
“I’ll take this jet black one” I said as I mistakenly, mistook his spirited attack as playful affection… Hindsight’s a marvellous thing!

The lady didn’t want any money for him as he was only a moggy and she wanted rid of the litter. So I said my farewells and took the jet black bundle of life to his new owner. I was quite excited to show Merlean the surprise I had for her, my excitement was dampened somewhat when on seeing my purchase the Merlean’s exact words were “A cat, why the fuck have you bought me a cat?”

We named him Buggaloo, he did all the cat like things you’d expect a cat to do and the enthusiasm which had first greeted me was immediately transferred to the Merlean. They seem to bond as much as you can do with cats and it ensured the Merlean a promising career as one of those ‘crazy cat lady’s’.

When I try to trace back the signs that something might be a bit awry, Bugs must have been a couple of years old.

I’d not long returned from training aboard and me and the Merlean were on the couch cuddling up to watch a DVD when Buggaloo appeared. Rather than settle down next to us and be petted like most normal cats would, Buggaloo started to freak out and do that horrible hissing thing that cats do, at me. We laughed a bit at this and put it down to Buggaloo being unsure of me seeing I had been away from home for two months.
I got up to put the DVD on and when I returned to the sofa I couldn’t believe it but….. Bugs was in my place!

I went to move him out of my seat and he hissed and did that cat thing where they arch their back. Merlean, who was loving this display of protectiveness said to me between cackles of laughter “Fuck off while I watch the DVD with Bugs”.

I went off to fill up Bugs’ food and water tray and went back to the sofa….  Nothing… Just a steely, green eyed glare coming back at me. I reached for Bugs and he scratched me really bad on the forearm drawing blood. At this point I was pissed off and ready to take one of his nine lives away. Sensing this, Bugs decided to vacate the premises.

I showed the Merlean the scratches that had scarred me for life and wondered what could have gotten into him? He’d never been like this before and we’d had him almost two years. This wasn’t the first time I’d been away for a prolonged amount of time and Bugs was fine the last time I came back from my travels.

Anyway, after a few light hearted jokes about me frothing at the mouth and dying of rabies, we settled down to watch the DVD, it was Pineapple Express. Surprising that I remember the film really as even on a good day I sometimes struggle to remember my own name!

We were half way through the film, all relaxed, absorbed in the action, engrossed in the story line when out of nowhere a jet black ball of fur suddenly appeared from the ‘sky’ and landed on my torso. I was led down, sprawled all over Merlean in my standard ‘dvd watching position’ when this heinous attack occurred.

I don’t know what I thought it was attacking me from above but I know I shit myself by how quickly I moved. Anyone that knows me knows I’m not a fan of moving quickly.

I got to my feet in 0.3 second, which is surely my lifetimes best, as I was startled, shocked and wondering what the fuck was going on. Anyone that has been in an unfortunate position like this will tell you that if a cat lands on you and you’re rude enough to move quickly then they’ll respond by digging their claws into whatever they’re on, in this case it was a combination of my t- shirt and my flesh.

I lashed out (but missed) at the flying feline fiend as it released its claws from me and high tailed it out of there. On its escape from the crime scene Bugs shot me a ‘come and have a go if you think your hard enough’ look.

“Fucking hell” is all I said. I was in shock. I could tell Merlean was too because she wasn’t laughing like she normally does at my demise.

Bugs snuck back in, jumped up on the book shelves and from there he must have jumped onto the curtain rail, of all places, and then dive- bombed me in a suicide attempt of hatred.

I never actually saw Bugs fling himself around the room from one high surface to another like a ninja cat but this was the only way I figured he could have jumped on me as the bookshelves were too far away from the couch for him to make that ‘leap of fright’

My torso was now covered with a couple of nasty scratches and my t shirt, which was only a training one, was ruined. I had heart palpitations and all the blood had drained from my being and I was proper shaken up from the ordeal.

After about ten minutes I calmed down and we resumed with the film but I couldn’t fully emerge myself into it as I was constantly keeping an eye on the newly christened attack position that was the curtain rail. To Merlean this was a funny story to tell our friends, to me, looking back, it was much, MUCH more. For that was the first of many attacks that signified I was at war with our cat.

Now, Merlean will tell you I’m being ‘over dramatic’ but let me tell you of some of the things I’ve endured at the hands of this heartless beast and I’ll let you be the judge.

After the initial attack things went quiet. It was like Bugs had come out strong from the gate but was now weighing up his next move. Every now and then I’d notice him just watching me, motionless, from a distance. I don’t remember him doing this before the “DVD incident” I have now named Buggaloo Express

I pointed this out to Merlean on numerous occasions but I was always accused of being ‘silly’.

The next cat attack took me by surprise as I was expecting another physical attack like the one before but NO, Buggaloo wanted to switch things up somewhat and went out for mental warfare against me.

I came home from training one night and did my usual: eat, complain, watched TV while eating, eat some more, complain a bit more, and then sleep. I got up the next morning, got ready and went to put my trainers on only to find that Bugs had PUKED in them. Yep that’s right, you didn’t misread and I didn’t make an error, I said THEM. What got to me about this, other than my socks being covered with a foul smelling, chunky brown mixture of fuck knows what soaking through to my toes, was that it was in both trainers!!

Now, I don’t put both my trainers on at the same time, I put one foot in, felt the sick squish underfoot so checked the other trainer, but the point here is that I think Bugs being sick in both my trainers shows what kind of a cold, calculating mind we’re dealing with here.

This happened about three weeks after the Buggaloo Express  incident and other than the ‘creepy staring’ Buggaloo had been doing, all had been quiet. It occurred to me as I was washing out my trainers and changing my socks that the last incident was no isolated maul or freak one off attack but was part of Bugs’ master plan against me. It was now official, the game was on!

Over the years this has had a profound effect on my psyche. Every time I would leave my trainers out there was a 50/50 chance that there would be cat vomit for me to find when I went to put them on.

It’s caught me out countless times, and always in both fucking shoes. It’s got to the point that even if I’m away from home, I hide my trainers out of habit.

I’ve voiced this countless times on my Facebook and Twitter, but a few likes and 140 charterers doesn’t give me enough room to vent as you can see.

After the sick in the shoes incident I decided it wasn’t much of a war if only one side was being constantly bombed. I mean, so far Bugs had physically and mentally scarred me and I hadn’t returned fire.

At that moment it was 2-0 to my feline foe.

It posed an interesting question. How do you go about getting revenge on a cat? I mean, it’s not like I can kick the shit out of it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried but he is just too quick for me to get at.

I spent an unhealthy amount of time obsessing about this question but it got to the point where something had to be done. I had a ‘light bulb’ moment about what I should do and realised in order to exact any sort of revenge on Buggaloo, I needed to get him into the bathroom.

Getting Bugs to settle in one place was a hard task at the best of times, made even harder by the fact that we were now ‘war-ing’ parties and his cat senses could smell my revenge thoughts before I’d even thought them.

The only way I could think to trap him in the bathroom was to capture him while he was eating. When it was time for a feed he’d come and eat the food out the bowl like an impatient cretin that’s never been fed while you were doing that horrible job of squeezing the foul smelling food out of the packet. This greed feature ingrained in Buggaloo would let me capture him when he was next due to eat.

My plan all went like clockwork until I picked him up. He began freaking out, twisting and turning like a furry bar of soap with teeth and claws.

I didn’t get two steps before dropping him.

I decided that I was ill prepared and received nothing in the way of revenge, only more scratches.

I threw away the freshly squeezed cat food, the only one the miserable fucker will eat as it’s the most expensive one money can buy and he thinks he deserves it, and got changed.

I put on loads of heavy layers, Mari gold gloves, my cameo cargo pants, and just to get into character because I was at war, my head gear and Mma gloves. I found an old net curtain in the spare room to trap him and so I was set.

I waited and waited. I called out, I looked for him, I hid in the kitchen, I even left small morsels of cat treats around to tempt him out…. but nothing!….

Bugs had gone unground.

I must have waited for Bugs to come out for at least 3 hours when Merlean got home from work and found me dressed like a homeless Mma fighter armed with a fishing net (net curtain but to me it was a fishing net trap). She looked at me like I was a weirdo and simply said “You have far too much free time on your hands” I must confess she had a point.

So it was back to the drawing the board, until it occurred to me that I was making things harder than necessary. I didn’t have to capture him and take him to the bathroom, he’d come to me, of his own willing accord…. How?

Well, like all people that have the pleasure of owning cats will know all I’d have to do is clean his litter tray and he’d magically appear to use it. Cats are like that you see, they don’t give you any warning that they need the toilet, they can just shit on cue and that cue is normally as soon as you’ve changed their tray to fresh, clean litter. It doesn’t matter that you try and mix it up a bit by changing the litter on different days of the week, or at different times in the day as without fail my cats will soil their litter AS SOON AS IT’S CHANGED. The Merlean begs our cats to let her just have half a day when there isn’t cat mess in their litter trays.

I hardly ever changed the cat litter so unsurprisingly it took me a while to think of this as a way to entrap Buggaloo in the Bathroom.

It all went like clockwork. As soon as the sound of those lovely clean pieces of litter made their way to his pointed ears Bugs, like magic, appeared. I stayed calm, finished what I was doing and let him enter further into my trap…. then slammed the door shut.

We made eye contact while he was sitting in his freshly poured toilet, I smiled a menacing smile which came very naturally to me and if Bugs had had an Adams apple, he would have done one of those cartoons like gulps. He was mine and he knew it….

I chased him round the bathroom like a cat does a mouse (pun intended) enjoying the whole experience. Finally, I got him into the shower cubicle and closed the door. Bug’s was due for a ‘wash’ and I was more than happy to oblige, especially as I know he hates it.

I got on a chair, reached over the shower door to grab the shower hose and turned it on full blast. I’m not sure what this says about me as a person but blasting him with that shower water whilst he freaked out and ran round the vastly limited space, while I aimed the water and tried to pelt him with shampoo, was the single most enjoyable 20 minutes of my life.


Now, this blog story is getting rather long and I’ve not even got through half of the run-ins me and Bugs have had so I’m going to fast forward past the time he left a mouse on my pillow. I’m not going to delve on eerier times when I took the rubbish out and on my return to the back door the security lights came on and four of the local cats and Buggaloo were watching me, silently, as I made my way back inside, cautiously. Nothing happened on this occasion, not even a sound was made which made it all the spookier. I believe it was Bugs’ way of showing me he has back up if needs be.

I described this taking the rubbish out incident to Merlean and to this day she thinks I’m making it up, which drives me mad, but it did happen and I wasn’t asleep dreaming when it did!

All the things I’ve mentioned here on this blog are unpleasant, maybe a bit creepy, but in no way life threatening except for this last incident I’m going to mention.

We had bought a new washing machine and before we picked up the new one I had to get rid of the old one, which had broken.

We live in an apartment on the first floor, so there’s a steep flight of stairs to get up before you get to the kitchen area where the washer is housed. We’re talking a period property here, built in the early 1900′s where people had tiny feet and made the staircases almost vertical for some strange but stupid reason.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced lifting a washing machine before but if you haven’t then let me tell you they are VERY heavy! Merlean wanted me to get some ‘help’ lifting it this time (I carried our old washer up the stairs alone when we first moved in) as I was going down stairs to take the old one out.

I was about three weeks away from fighting the former world strongest man Mariuz Pudzianowski, for the second time, in a MMA fight and I couldn’t imagine that he would need any type of ‘help’ lifting a washing machine. In fact, he would probably lift one in each arm so I firmly told the Merlean that ‘I took it up the stairs so I could bring it back down’ so that’s what I did.

I rocked the washer a little so one side was off the floor, got my hands underneath it, bent down and slowly lifted it up.

It was so heavy I couldn’t bend my arms and I could only take little steps as the washer kept banging into my legs. It was the most awkward, heavy fuckin piece of household white goods I had ever lifted, made harder as there’s no other way to move one other than to pick it up as it’s too wide and heavy to wrap your arms around it. Washing machine in arms, I headed for the stairs.

I got to the foot of the stairs and began my slow but sure decent. I’d only got to about the third step when Merlean said “Watch Bugs!”
Eh” was my reply
Don’t step on him, he’s on the next step” she said in a panic that I might squash the cat.
“Is he? Well he’ll have a fucking washer on top on him in a minute” I was feeling for Bugs with my foot, which wasn’t helpful as my view was being blocked by the washer in my hands. I marginally made it to the next step without an incident. There was only another only 12 to go! I was about to take the next step when I heard an even more panicked “Watch Bugs” from Merlean.
I took the step and could feel Buggaloo’s warm fur pressed up against my ankle, I edged my way down and I heard the now familiar shriek “Watch Bugs!”
He’s following me” I shouted “the fucker’s trying to trip me up!”

I wasn’t even half way down and I was quickly losing my grip on the heavy object. I would have to turn a full 360 to rest it on the stairs to give myself a breather which is what I started doing as I could feel I was going to drop it otherwise. I started the delicate matter of turning around and could feel the ‘little shit’ under my feet. I hoofed Bug’s out the way as hard I could. He smacked against the wall before falling down a few more stairs and scampered off to safety.
James, what are you doing??” Merlean screamed at me.

I was half twisted on a narrow staircase with what felt like a ton of weight slowly slipping from my sweaty palms but I suddenly found the energy to scream back something like
I’m trying not to fall victim to your fucking evil cat’s plan, it’s trying to fucking kill me
I managed to do a full turn and placed the lump of machinery on the stairs before It was too late.

What struck me about this episode was Buggaloo’s total disregard for his own furry neck as he not only try to trip me once but actually counting the attempts he took on my life that day, it was THREE TIMES. There is no doubt in my mind that the little fucker tried to kill me.

Me and Merlean both laugh about it now. Nothing brings a couple together more than one of their pets trying to assassinate the other one.

Everything I’ve written here is the truth. Merlean will say it’s over exaggerated somewhat, but it’s not the case.

If I ever go missing I want this blog and Buggaloo Examined and I want it used in evidence.

What I’m saying is, don’t bother looking for finger prints look for Paw Prints.