You know what’s nice about being a cat? Nobody expects you to explain yourself. Dogs have owners. Horses have riders. Even sheep have someone counting them, though personally that just sends me to sleep. But a cat? A cat just is. If I fits I sits. You find a spot and settle down, keeping one ear open for trouble and just let the world pass you by.

And my spot is just purrrfect. I say spot, it’s not really a specific spot, it’s more, well, the whole island really. It’s my spot on the bigger map, the little island in the Irish Sea with its own unique history. And I like it here. Which is good because nine lives is a long time to spend in any one place, especially if “nine lives” doesn’t technically mean one after another but is actually more a description of how long you’ve been around. For me, well, it’s just one life, and it’s been interesting, settled here on my spot, quietly watching the world go by summer after summer. There’s a lot here to keep you occupied and a lot to find out. By the way, and I’m not saying this is all down to me, but you’ll notice there are Manx cats but not Manx mice? Let’s just say mice having tails makes life much easier if you’re a cat…not the other ones though, the big fellas, joeys, long tails. Definitely not them. No one really knows where the superstition comes from but I remember when I was much younger I made the mistake of thinking one of their tails was attached to a mouse. Got a heck of a surprise when I found out, the dratted thing even tried to bite my nose! Ever since then I’ve kept out of the way of those creatures, definitely unlucky to have them around.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, my spot. If you don’t already know, my spot is a little island in the middle of the Irish Sea, it’s about thirty miles long and about ten miles wide and sort of like a stretched out diamond sort of shape. And there’s a cute little bit dropped off the end, we call that part the Calf. Although no one ever calls the main island the Cow, huh go figure. But there’s a lot of history here, in fact people have been living here since, now what was that word they use now, oh yes, the Mesolithic period. Ah, the Mesolithic period, when everything was so…Meso. And Lithic…you’re right, I have no idea what Mesolithic means, I just say a long time ago, in a place not far away. Ronaldsway in fact. But if you’re counting, that’s about 8000 years, or roughly how long it feels when you’re trying to make an appointment on the phone and you get put on hold. Still, traa dy liooar, yessir, as they say. But what I’m trying to say is, people have been here on this spot for a really long time, and over time they got to know the place pretty well and often told each other stories about what makes the island so special. There’s the one about the buggane, the cabbyl ushtey in the waves, and of course the little people, the mooinjer veggey. Oh and if you think those names sound a bit strange, that’s probably because they’re in Manx Gaelic, that’s the language most people used around here, until quite recently really, but I hear it’s making a comeback which is great to hear. But I think my favourite story is the one they tell about Manannán Mac Lir. He’s quite a big deal in these parts is old Manannán. Quite a character he is, if even half the stories about him are true. They say when the island is threatened, he hides it with his magical cloak of mist, riding his chariot across the waves and generally causing mayhem all over the place. They also say he’s a shapeshifter and can make himself appear in one of many forms, often pretending to be a normal every day creature that no one would think twice about if they saw it, just lying there in the sun watching the world go by. Huh, no idea where that one comes from, no one would believe that. I mean, yes, there’s all those other Gods people talk about that take on different shapes, you know like Odin, Zeus, Eni, Coyote, Sun Wukong, but really, someone like that on the Isle of Man just hanging around and watching everything the people who live here get up to. Crazy talk.

So, like I was saying, here I was, just lying here watching the world go by and generally keeping an eye on everything going on, and I thought to myself, I wonder if people these days know about that. All those little quirky bits of history, all the gossip, or the skeet as they call it here. So I figured now and again, I’d tell you a tale or two about some of the things I’ve come across while I’ve been wandering around this place.

So here they are, I hope you enjoy my Manx Cat’s tales.