Friday, June 30, 2006

Where HAVE I Been?

My friends, I know you will have missed me, so here's a very fetching picture to remind you how gorgeous I am.

I hope you didn't worry. Nothing was wrong except we didn't have a phone line for a while. I think Sophie bit the cable. She's just jealous 'cos stupid tabbies who think they're boys don't get their own blog.

Life goes on. You catch a mouse, you chase it round the flowerpots all night before tucking into breakfast. Things could be a lot worse.

It's good to be back.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Bah Humbug!

Greetings everyone! Unseasonal though it is, I'm going to talk about Christmas.

I hate Christmas. I hate anything that disrupts my normally quiet life - who wouldn't? I know some cats get over-excited about turkey, gravy, roast potatoes and even (for one demented beast) lard, but with all the great cat food around, who cares? I've never been one to beg at the table - well, not often - and what else is there about Christmas that could possibly interest a cat?

Sometimes my humans buy me presents.

I wish they wouldn't. If you want to give me something, JUST GIVE IT TO ME! Don't make such a FUSS!
Actually, some of my presents have been quite good, like can covers or toys, or the bean bag Mum made for me - only she spoilt it by sitting next to it one day and I never used it again. That was on Boxing Day, I think. But the point is, if you want to get me something nice to show you love me, fine, just don't wrap it up and then make me watch you unwrap it. It's pointless and I find it unnerving.

Here I am looking as good as gold, next to the Christmas tree. We've only had one once, which is a shame because it gave me something to do when I was in the house at night. I've heard of cats who go berserk when faced with a Christmas tree, launching themselves at it, pulling it over and breaking everything. That's not my way: apart from anything else, it's so demeaning. No, what I did was to wait until the humans had gone to bed and then pull off just one of those little shiny trees and give it an exploratory chew. Next morning I'd ignore the whole thing, as if nothing had happened in the night, but then the next night I'd do it all over again. Why? That's my secret. Every cat needs a bit of feline mystique, and that's mine.

Toodle-pip! (Mum and I have been listening to the wonderful Ian Carmichael in the adaptations of the Lord Peter Wimsey books on BBC Radio7, and it's startin' to rub orf, doncha know? Thank 'ee.)

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