That's it then. It's been and gone and I survived it gentle reader. The humans (as I predicted) gorged themselves on high calorific foods, washed down with copious quantities of strong drink and are now discussing dieting come the new year (yeah right). The day began with a frenzied attack upon the presents. Why they go to all that bother to wrap things up only to tear the paper to shreds a few days later is beyond me. Surely it would be much easier to just hand the gifts over cat like. Whenever I make them a present of a freshly dispatched mouse I don't pfaff about wrapping it in paper and daubing sticky tape and tags all over it. No, I give it as it should be given - on the living room floor for all to see and admire. You know, there is so much they could learn from us cats if they only took the time.
Following the paper shredding they then drank the beverage known as sherry in a sizeable quantity. This made them go rather giggly and a little blurry eyed. Stick to milk my friends, stick to milk. No one ever went blurry eyed over a glass of semi-skimmed. They then, thankfully, went over to the cottage to feast, leaving me to have my boat in peace for the remainder of the day. The lummox had the foresight to light a coal fire before going in order that I should remain toasty warm in their absence and it was quite gratifying to know that he can do something right now and again. They returned many hours later, bloated with food, reeking of liquor, full of wind and rather tired.
But I missed it all and slept blissfully throughout the day. How Snowy, Sooty and the dog managed I neither know nor care suffice to say they probably disgraced themselves by begging for turkey and gravy at the table and not having the dignity to stay aloof from it all. Anyway, that's it for another year. I believe there is going to be a party of some descript on New Years Eve at the cottage and again those other two and the dog are welcome to it. I know what I'll be doing and it rhymes with 'peeping'. TTFN
P x
Saturday, 28 December 2013
Friday, 13 December 2013
Lunacy
The mad spend fest known as Christmas is fast approaching. To any cats out there who are unaware what exactly this means I'll tell you. It's a time of year when most humans go berserk and spend seven or eight times more money than they actually earn. Most of the following year is then given over to trying to financially recover from this mania with the exception of the annual summer holiday to Torremolinos or some other overly hot Mediterranean destination where further fiscal stupidity, that they can ill-afford, takes place.
During the Christmas period you can expect your humans to behave in all manner of odd ways. They will dress differently for one thing. All of a sudden the simple idea of going for an evening out becomes an excuse for them to make complete fools of themselves by donning pointy red hats with white trim, adorning their necks with hairy metallic ropes, wearing garish musical ties that defy explanation and pullovers that look like an explosion in a knitwear factory.
Whilst dressed in this ridiculous manner you can then expect your human to return home from their night of revelry in a state of utter dishevelment, throwing their guts up and getting rather tired and emotional about it all. The next morning they will hate themselves with a vengeance and vow never to make the same mistake again. This is usually a lie, they will do it again. It's all very strange.
Then we come to food. A lot of it to be exact. Your human will eat at least twice their own body weight in high calorie comestibles over Christmas and then moan about their bloated carcasses for weeks to come afterwards. They will eat food that is simply unavailable at other times of the year, mainly involving compacted dried fruit in some form or other. They will eat turkey. Quite delicious it is, but then won't even look at another turkey for the next eleven months. And before cooking the turkey they will shove raw sausage meat up it's arse. This means that the sausage meat will not cook properly but they will still eat it anyway and then wonder why they end up racing each other to the toilet for the rest of the afternoon. They will put metal coins into puddings, alcohol into custard, and wrap pork products around other pork products and consider themselves normal. NORMAL!!! Also, at this time, Brussels Sprouts will be consumed in vast quantities and we all know where that can lead to don't we. Enough said!
And of course there's the Christmas pop music. Sorry, did I say music? What I meant to say was slushy old pap that for some reason gets them all misty eyed and nostalgic for the 'good old days'. Ok, some of the songs are just about bearable but others are stomach churningly offensive slices of tired old schmalz that are more likely to bring a lump to the back of the underpants than to the throat. And yet, they seem to delight in listening to the same old guff year in, year out. Never anything new. Oh no! The same old same old every Christmas. And yet, they wouldn't touch any of these songs with a barge pole for the rest of the year. Utterly bewildering it is.
I could go on but I've made myself nauseous now at the thought of it all. So I'll just finish off with these words of moggy wisdom to all my feline readers. Avoid it all. Get yourself to the bedroom or some other darkened space and sleep through it all. It won't be easy as they can get very cacophonous, but do try. I must admit that my pair aren't too bad so it'll be quite easy for me. But to all you cats out there who have to endure all that nonsense my thoughts will be with you.
P x
During the Christmas period you can expect your humans to behave in all manner of odd ways. They will dress differently for one thing. All of a sudden the simple idea of going for an evening out becomes an excuse for them to make complete fools of themselves by donning pointy red hats with white trim, adorning their necks with hairy metallic ropes, wearing garish musical ties that defy explanation and pullovers that look like an explosion in a knitwear factory.
Whilst dressed in this ridiculous manner you can then expect your human to return home from their night of revelry in a state of utter dishevelment, throwing their guts up and getting rather tired and emotional about it all. The next morning they will hate themselves with a vengeance and vow never to make the same mistake again. This is usually a lie, they will do it again. It's all very strange.
Then we come to food. A lot of it to be exact. Your human will eat at least twice their own body weight in high calorie comestibles over Christmas and then moan about their bloated carcasses for weeks to come afterwards. They will eat food that is simply unavailable at other times of the year, mainly involving compacted dried fruit in some form or other. They will eat turkey. Quite delicious it is, but then won't even look at another turkey for the next eleven months. And before cooking the turkey they will shove raw sausage meat up it's arse. This means that the sausage meat will not cook properly but they will still eat it anyway and then wonder why they end up racing each other to the toilet for the rest of the afternoon. They will put metal coins into puddings, alcohol into custard, and wrap pork products around other pork products and consider themselves normal. NORMAL!!! Also, at this time, Brussels Sprouts will be consumed in vast quantities and we all know where that can lead to don't we. Enough said!
And of course there's the Christmas pop music. Sorry, did I say music? What I meant to say was slushy old pap that for some reason gets them all misty eyed and nostalgic for the 'good old days'. Ok, some of the songs are just about bearable but others are stomach churningly offensive slices of tired old schmalz that are more likely to bring a lump to the back of the underpants than to the throat. And yet, they seem to delight in listening to the same old guff year in, year out. Never anything new. Oh no! The same old same old every Christmas. And yet, they wouldn't touch any of these songs with a barge pole for the rest of the year. Utterly bewildering it is.
I could go on but I've made myself nauseous now at the thought of it all. So I'll just finish off with these words of moggy wisdom to all my feline readers. Avoid it all. Get yourself to the bedroom or some other darkened space and sleep through it all. It won't be easy as they can get very cacophonous, but do try. I must admit that my pair aren't too bad so it'll be quite easy for me. But to all you cats out there who have to endure all that nonsense my thoughts will be with you.
P x
Monday, 2 December 2013
Work
The lummox has returned to employment, and about bloody time too if you ask me. All he does when he's here is make a lot of noise and disturb my beauty sleep. For the record, between the hours of 07:30 and 18:00, Monday to Friday, the bed belongs to me and me alone (it belongs to me full stop if truth be told but being so benevolent I allow that pair to sleep in it at night) and I reserve the right to use it during those hours in an undisturbed manner. But oh no, he always starts drilling or hammering or sawing or buggering about in some noisy way and without being too blunt about it, he gets on my tits. I mean to say, is it asking too much for a cat to have a bit of peace and quiet for ten and a half measly hours? No, I didn't think so either.
But now the bed, the boat and the mooring are mine all mine during the day because the overweight oaf has gone to work. I'm not sure what he does exactly, ponces about in some office somewhere I think he said, but it's more than likely to be menial work that even a low-foreheaded, knuckle dragger such as him should be capable of. And it's absolute bliss. I can loll about to my heart's content without noise or disturbance until the pair of them come home again of an evening. I'll say one thing though, I've got therm trained correctly because the first thing they do when they get in is to light the fire in order that I shouldn't have to get out of a warm bed and go through to a cold living room. So praise where it's due, no-one can accuse me of not handing out the kudos when it's called for.
Hopefully, now that he's finally bringing in some brass I'll be kept in the finest food that money can buy and at the moment that means tins of tuna. So get to work lummox!
P x
But now the bed, the boat and the mooring are mine all mine during the day because the overweight oaf has gone to work. I'm not sure what he does exactly, ponces about in some office somewhere I think he said, but it's more than likely to be menial work that even a low-foreheaded, knuckle dragger such as him should be capable of. And it's absolute bliss. I can loll about to my heart's content without noise or disturbance until the pair of them come home again of an evening. I'll say one thing though, I've got therm trained correctly because the first thing they do when they get in is to light the fire in order that I shouldn't have to get out of a warm bed and go through to a cold living room. So praise where it's due, no-one can accuse me of not handing out the kudos when it's called for.
Hopefully, now that he's finally bringing in some brass I'll be kept in the finest food that money can buy and at the moment that means tins of tuna. So get to work lummox!
P x
Sunday, 17 November 2013
Flatus
Gas, wind, farting, flatulence, guffing, letting rip, blowing off, letting off, coughing in your rompers, tearing the sheets, cutting the cheese, giving a Bronx cheer, call it what you like, I know what I calls it - a Scouse hippie filling my boat with abdominally produced methane and making my eyes burn for the best part of a week. And do you know what the lummox presented him with for tea one night? Go on, have a guess. No? Well I'll tell you - a big plateful of sprouts. What on earth was he thinking? He may as well have forced hard boiled duck eggs down his throat, it couldn't have been any worse. The effects, as you can no doubt guess, were quite, quite shocking, almost paralysing. Particularly to someone of my refined and gentle disposition. Honestly, it'll take weeks for the miasma to clear. And then they laughed like a pair of naughty schoolboys about it the following morning. I rose above it all of course and treated them both with the contempt they fully deserved. The lummox should've known better and will pay for his indiscretion in due course (I left him a little gift last night - hee hee!).
And the noise!!! I didn't get a wink of sleep at night and had to make up for it by lying in bed until six in the evening to catch up. Honestly, he was rasping and trumpeting away all through the wee small hours, tossing and turning on the couch and grunting with subliminal pleasure at each tremendous, great blast. How there's any glass left in the windows I'll never know. I mean, it's bad enough when the lummox farts himself awake and makes me jump but this was taking it to dizzy new heights.
Fair's fair though, the Scouse hippie (I believe his name begins with R, to be honest I wasn't paying much attention) has worked very hard and where the lummox has failed he succeeded and there is now a healthy and ample store of firewood to keep me cosy throughout the coming months. So thanks hippie I shan't forget it but then I shan't forget the brass band impressions either. Next time lay off the sprouts or better still tell the lummox to not even buy any, you have been warned
P x
And the noise!!! I didn't get a wink of sleep at night and had to make up for it by lying in bed until six in the evening to catch up. Honestly, he was rasping and trumpeting away all through the wee small hours, tossing and turning on the couch and grunting with subliminal pleasure at each tremendous, great blast. How there's any glass left in the windows I'll never know. I mean, it's bad enough when the lummox farts himself awake and makes me jump but this was taking it to dizzy new heights.
Fair's fair though, the Scouse hippie (I believe his name begins with R, to be honest I wasn't paying much attention) has worked very hard and where the lummox has failed he succeeded and there is now a healthy and ample store of firewood to keep me cosy throughout the coming months. So thanks hippie I shan't forget it but then I shan't forget the brass band impressions either. Next time lay off the sprouts or better still tell the lummox to not even buy any, you have been warned
P x
Monday, 11 November 2013
Paw
It really is just too easy at times. We cats know every trick in the book about how to turn humans into soppy, gurgling saps. I won't deny that we like a bit of fuss now and then on our terms and we let the humans know this by doing adorable things that make them stop whatever they're doing, however important to them that may be, and start stroking and cossetting us to our hearts content. It works on at least 98% of humans, allowing for the factor that there will always be a stoney faced git somewhere who is worried about getting cat hairs on their lap. Sod them I say. But my two in particular are such an easy target that I've devised a method so simple in it's execution that I hardly need to raise a paw. In fact that's exactly what I do, raise my paw.
I jump onto the kitchen table or the arm of the couch, meow once or twice to get their attention and when they're looking I lift my left front paw in the air about an inch and then wait for the flood of praise and molly-coddling that inevitably follows. They go berserk with it and if I should raise it again they end up in a positive ecstasy of frenzied feline frottage that after a while gets a bit too much. Ange in particular though seems to know what a cat likes and gives some marvellous all over body scratches that even I have to admit send me into throws of delight. The lummox isn't as good although I have to hand it to him that he knows what to do with my cheeks (facial) and seems to have an unending vigour when it comes to rubbing them.
The amazing thing though is the ease with which I get all this to happen. I've known lesser cats that have had to meow, purr, rub against legs endlessly, play with toys and make buffoons of themselves in order to get what they want and whilst it's true that all these techniques work in the end, I think you'll agree that I've got it down to a T. Raising my paw, that's how easy it is folks.
P x
PS. I'm off out now for a pawdicure (hah! see what I did there!)
I jump onto the kitchen table or the arm of the couch, meow once or twice to get their attention and when they're looking I lift my left front paw in the air about an inch and then wait for the flood of praise and molly-coddling that inevitably follows. They go berserk with it and if I should raise it again they end up in a positive ecstasy of frenzied feline frottage that after a while gets a bit too much. Ange in particular though seems to know what a cat likes and gives some marvellous all over body scratches that even I have to admit send me into throws of delight. The lummox isn't as good although I have to hand it to him that he knows what to do with my cheeks (facial) and seems to have an unending vigour when it comes to rubbing them.
The amazing thing though is the ease with which I get all this to happen. I've known lesser cats that have had to meow, purr, rub against legs endlessly, play with toys and make buffoons of themselves in order to get what they want and whilst it's true that all these techniques work in the end, I think you'll agree that I've got it down to a T. Raising my paw, that's how easy it is folks.
P x
PS. I'm off out now for a pawdicure (hah! see what I did there!)
Thursday, 7 November 2013
Wood
There's a large pile of wood on the mooring. It's been there for some time now. The lummox began collecting it about a year ago and over the course of the last twelve months it has steadily grown in size. Over the summer I have enjoyed clambering over it and sharpening my claws on it as it's a great place to exercise and I don't get Ange telling me how naughty I am which she has the bare-faced temerity to do when I sharpen my claws on the log basket/full length mirror/couch/dresser etc etc. Huh! However, the time has now come for my log pile to go. The nights are drawing in and a chill is in the air. Pixie therefore must be kept warm and snug.
So fat boy now has the task of sawing and chopping the wood up, stacking it in the shed and keeping the log basket replenished at all times so that from now until April I shall be cosy. He made a start on it the other day but to be honest it was pathetic. You should have seen and heard him. Sweating and wheezing and cursing and shambling about the place like a geriatric sasquatch, grumbling about something called sciatica (???) and clutching his lower back every ten minutes. Never mind clutching at it my fat friend, I thought, put your back into it. By the time he'd finished just a few measly lengths of oak had been transformed into fire logs, maybe enough to keep me warm for about a fortnight. Well I'm sorry but that's piss poor. I've half a mind to show him how to use an axe if I had rough, calloused hands like him instead of the fine, shapely paws that I have. Honestly he's about as much use as... as... as...
the dog!
Anyway, winter is upon us and I shall be spending a lot of it in front of the fire so he needs to get his finger out. I believe the scouse hippie is going to be joining us again soon so perhaps between the pair of them they might get the job done. Perhaps!
P x
So fat boy now has the task of sawing and chopping the wood up, stacking it in the shed and keeping the log basket replenished at all times so that from now until April I shall be cosy. He made a start on it the other day but to be honest it was pathetic. You should have seen and heard him. Sweating and wheezing and cursing and shambling about the place like a geriatric sasquatch, grumbling about something called sciatica (???) and clutching his lower back every ten minutes. Never mind clutching at it my fat friend, I thought, put your back into it. By the time he'd finished just a few measly lengths of oak had been transformed into fire logs, maybe enough to keep me warm for about a fortnight. Well I'm sorry but that's piss poor. I've half a mind to show him how to use an axe if I had rough, calloused hands like him instead of the fine, shapely paws that I have. Honestly he's about as much use as... as... as...
the dog!
Anyway, winter is upon us and I shall be spending a lot of it in front of the fire so he needs to get his finger out. I believe the scouse hippie is going to be joining us again soon so perhaps between the pair of them they might get the job done. Perhaps!
P x
Saturday, 2 November 2013
Territory
Let's get one thing straight shall we... I was here first. Snowy and Sooty need to remember that. Ergo, all this is mine. The boat is mine, the mooring is mine, the yard is mine, the shed roof is mine and so on and so forth. They've got a back garden (mine also, technically) that they can run around in and make young fools of themselves so why do they still feel the need to make their way onto the mooring and down to the stone pile where I sometimes enjoy to sit of a morning.
On Thursday I had to face that Sooty character down as he came parading around the stone pile whilst I was taking the morning air. He managed to keep himself in check though and seems to know what's best for himself unlike that brother of his who has had to receive a thick ear on numerous occasions and who had to be chased hissing from the wheelhouse last Sunday. I won't stand for it you know. But Sooty seems to recognise who is top cat around these parts and as yet I haven't had to knock him about. Yet!
Then of course there's the dog but one has to feel sorry for her I suppose. Charging about barking all over the place, barging onto my boat and sending things flying, picking up the lummox's underpants in her mouth (I'm gagging at just the thought of that one), and eating any old muck that's placed in front of her. She's like a brown, furry wrecking ball. Personally, I don't think she's got the savvy to understand anything about the concept of territory which is fine by me. Those other two though...
And as for the humans, don't get me started.
P x
On Thursday I had to face that Sooty character down as he came parading around the stone pile whilst I was taking the morning air. He managed to keep himself in check though and seems to know what's best for himself unlike that brother of his who has had to receive a thick ear on numerous occasions and who had to be chased hissing from the wheelhouse last Sunday. I won't stand for it you know. But Sooty seems to recognise who is top cat around these parts and as yet I haven't had to knock him about. Yet!
Then of course there's the dog but one has to feel sorry for her I suppose. Charging about barking all over the place, barging onto my boat and sending things flying, picking up the lummox's underpants in her mouth (I'm gagging at just the thought of that one), and eating any old muck that's placed in front of her. She's like a brown, furry wrecking ball. Personally, I don't think she's got the savvy to understand anything about the concept of territory which is fine by me. Those other two though...
And as for the humans, don't get me started.
P x
Sunday, 27 October 2013
Home
I'm back. Pixie Poo Poo, the Queen of Dowley Gap is home again. And not a moment too soon either. Frankly, I think it's outrageous to keep me from my mooring for this length of time and I demonstrated my continued annoyance by getting off the boat yesterday and going off in a huff for two hours. You should have heard the poor saps, calling my name and shaking the biscuits. Do they honestly think I'm going to fall for that one again. I got back on board when I was good and ready. the humans obviously forgot that a cat won't just come running when they want it to.
But what I will say for them is this, the last few days have been challenging. The lummox even fell into the canal at one stage. I would have laughed like a drain had I seen it but I was curled up snugly at the back of the wardrobe space. But anyway, what I do know is that for the last few days they've been up against it and have had to work very hard to get us home again and for once, humans, I salute thee!
Just don't get used to the idea. I'm just grateful to be home, I haven't gone soft or anything.
P x
But what I will say for them is this, the last few days have been challenging. The lummox even fell into the canal at one stage. I would have laughed like a drain had I seen it but I was curled up snugly at the back of the wardrobe space. But anyway, what I do know is that for the last few days they've been up against it and have had to work very hard to get us home again and for once, humans, I salute thee!
Just don't get used to the idea. I'm just grateful to be home, I haven't gone soft or anything.
P x
Monday, 21 October 2013
Dog
Humans will tell you that dogs are intelligent creatures. How they arrive at this conclusion is beyond me and indeed if you were to ask any cat they would all tell you that this is in fact a myth. Oh sure, they can round up sheep, sniff things out, run and fetch etc etc, but these are all nothing more than party tricks which are learnt after many hours of practice. Whereas a cat, you see, is born with a deep and sublime intelligence (though I do wonder about Snowy at times). Dogs you see will do what a human tells them, bounding around with their tongues hanging out and generally making fools of themselves. A cat, on the other paw, will merely flick it's tail and walk away in a dignified manner when issued an order. I'll let you into a little secret here as well. The tail flick is the cat equivalent of when a human shows their middle finger to another human, only not as base or crude a gesture. It's a cat's way of saying 'f#*! off'.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, we had the pleasure of the Dog's company on my boat this weekend. And boy was I pissed about it. Not content with revving that bloody engine and blasting along the rivers again the humans had to add the Dog to the crew and make my life as miserable as possible. All weekend I had to put up with panting, slobbering, whimpering, scratching, howling etc. And the Dog was even worse - hah!, see what I did there.
Really though, to think that I, Pixie Poo Poo, should have to tolerate the presence of the Dog on top of cruising is just asking too much, and don't even get me started on the fact that we ended up in bloody Leeds again on Saturday night. And then they had to go and find a patch of grass for it to evacuate it's bowels on. How awful, what's wrong with a litter tray? And, did you know, that some humans enjoy putting dog excrement into little bags? They must do, I see it so often. I find it all most disturbing.
Anyway, she's gone home now and I can give the place a good airing and start getting back to normal. I put on a quite magnificent display of sulking last night to leave the humans in no doubt about how miffed I was at my weekend being dog-ridden and I shall be expecting treats and molly-coddling to follow, or else.
P x
Anyway, to cut a long story short, we had the pleasure of the Dog's company on my boat this weekend. And boy was I pissed about it. Not content with revving that bloody engine and blasting along the rivers again the humans had to add the Dog to the crew and make my life as miserable as possible. All weekend I had to put up with panting, slobbering, whimpering, scratching, howling etc. And the Dog was even worse - hah!, see what I did there.
Really though, to think that I, Pixie Poo Poo, should have to tolerate the presence of the Dog on top of cruising is just asking too much, and don't even get me started on the fact that we ended up in bloody Leeds again on Saturday night. And then they had to go and find a patch of grass for it to evacuate it's bowels on. How awful, what's wrong with a litter tray? And, did you know, that some humans enjoy putting dog excrement into little bags? They must do, I see it so often. I find it all most disturbing.
Anyway, she's gone home now and I can give the place a good airing and start getting back to normal. I put on a quite magnificent display of sulking last night to leave the humans in no doubt about how miffed I was at my weekend being dog-ridden and I shall be expecting treats and molly-coddling to follow, or else.
P x
Tuesday, 8 October 2013
Bag
I'm sorry, but if you're going to leave a comfortable looking bag lying on the floor for more than a few days then you can't complain if I decide to start sleeping on it. And that, gentle reader, is precisely what has happened here. Ange is/was the proud owner of a rather fetching hessian shopping bag. I believe it was used for ferrying papers to and fro her place of employment. Well it's now my place of enjoyment - Hah! See what I did there?
It really is most agreeable for a mid morning nap and there is only the one down side to it which is that the humans see me lying there on it and turn into a pair of simpering idiots, spewing out bile inducing comments regarding the cuteness of my appearance, as if I didn't know. Strewth! Give a cat some peace will you? It's enough to make you bring up a hairball the way they jabber on. I don't wake them up with a running commentary on the way they look. No, I wake them up with a mouse or just a good meowing to make them move over and give me more room on the bed.
One day I shall tire of the bag and Ange can have it back for her papers, but until then it's mine. It must be left exactly where it is and kept unspoilt until I grow weary of it. How long will that be? Who can say? One thing is for certain and that's if it should be moved before I've done with it then my wrath will be incurred. I'm sure that won't happen though as they both know what's good for them.
P x
It really is most agreeable for a mid morning nap and there is only the one down side to it which is that the humans see me lying there on it and turn into a pair of simpering idiots, spewing out bile inducing comments regarding the cuteness of my appearance, as if I didn't know. Strewth! Give a cat some peace will you? It's enough to make you bring up a hairball the way they jabber on. I don't wake them up with a running commentary on the way they look. No, I wake them up with a mouse or just a good meowing to make them move over and give me more room on the bed.
One day I shall tire of the bag and Ange can have it back for her papers, but until then it's mine. It must be left exactly where it is and kept unspoilt until I grow weary of it. How long will that be? Who can say? One thing is for certain and that's if it should be moved before I've done with it then my wrath will be incurred. I'm sure that won't happen though as they both know what's good for them.
P x
Monday, 30 September 2013
Holiday
That's it then, it's all over. Ange has gone back to work and the lummox is moping around like a little lost lamb, poncing about doing odd jobs around my boat here and there. The holiday is finished. And yet... here we still are in Castleford. Bloody Castleford mind you! I was hoping to be shooing Snowy off my mooring by now but no, we've got to wait around for some arsing spare part to arrive before we can set off for Dowley Gap again. That means another eternity watching them two drinking wine and cooing at each other about how beautiful the oil lamp looks and what a lovely place this is and how they've had a fabulous time. Humans, I ask you.
I suppose it hasn't been all bad. The engine breaking down meant that I didn't have to put up with it's God awful noise too much. It really is intolerable to such a sensitive and demure cat such as myself. Add to that the fact that I've slaughtered no less than six (count em') mice and kept the humans awake quite a few nights by galloping up and down the roof to my heart's content and I think you'll agree that I've not had too bad a time of it. Just that damnable cruising I'm not keen on. Leeds was a pile of old arsewash of course and if we have to stop there on the way back then my protest will be long and loud let me tell you. We've stopped in quite a few countryside locations along the way and I personally don't see why we should have to put up with that concrete jungle. The lummox and the redhead should set their faces and plough on until we're out of Leeds and have left it trailing in our wake.
Being on holiday has also given me a chance to catch up on my beauty sleep quite a lot. My winter coat is coming in nicely and I need to pamper myself as much as catly possible to ensure it remains in tip-top condition.
I'll let you know how we get on of course and I can't wait to box that young upstart's ears once we get back. That mooring is mine and he better have kept himself off it. My woodpile, my shed, my grass, my mice. MINE!!! Mine all mine do you hear? I'll be back!
P x
I suppose it hasn't been all bad. The engine breaking down meant that I didn't have to put up with it's God awful noise too much. It really is intolerable to such a sensitive and demure cat such as myself. Add to that the fact that I've slaughtered no less than six (count em') mice and kept the humans awake quite a few nights by galloping up and down the roof to my heart's content and I think you'll agree that I've not had too bad a time of it. Just that damnable cruising I'm not keen on. Leeds was a pile of old arsewash of course and if we have to stop there on the way back then my protest will be long and loud let me tell you. We've stopped in quite a few countryside locations along the way and I personally don't see why we should have to put up with that concrete jungle. The lummox and the redhead should set their faces and plough on until we're out of Leeds and have left it trailing in our wake.
Being on holiday has also given me a chance to catch up on my beauty sleep quite a lot. My winter coat is coming in nicely and I need to pamper myself as much as catly possible to ensure it remains in tip-top condition.
I'll let you know how we get on of course and I can't wait to box that young upstart's ears once we get back. That mooring is mine and he better have kept himself off it. My woodpile, my shed, my grass, my mice. MINE!!! Mine all mine do you hear? I'll be back!
P x
Thursday, 26 September 2013
Egg
Yesterday I developed a sudden and inexplicable taste for left over boiled eggs. The two-legged ones had them for breakfast and it intrigued me to observe such a strange ritual so much that I went in for a closer look. I do have a fondness for scrambled eggs but to see eggs being eaten in their shells was new to me. And I have to say it was a very tasty experience.
I only ate some of Ange's though. The lummox had polished his off in about a minute and a half and well, to be honest, his leftovers weren't exactly appealing either. Ange made a beautiful job of delicately sawing the tops off her eggs so that there was scarcely a ragged shell to be seen whereas he had hacked his off like a deranged lumberjack, sending bits of shell hither and thither about the boat. One almost needs to wear safety glasses whilst he's attacking an egg. Also, Ange had eaten hers very daintily and that made the prospect more attractive compared to the dreadful savaging he gave to his eggs, clacking his tongue and slatching and slurping away, his lips curling and twisting around the spoon like a pair of angry eels fighting over a frog, flecks of yolk and albumen streaking his scruffy, straggly beard, his grubby, oil stained fingers plunging toasted soldiers into the centre like depth charges and spraying the eggs innards as far as the eye could see. Oh my word, it was awful to comprehend. By the time he was finished you'd have thought the eggs had been blasted apart with dynamite.
So I just ate some of Ange's and I thoroughly enjoyed it. So much so that next time they have boiled eggs I shall demand one all of my own and show the lummox how to eat it in a civilised manner.
P x
I only ate some of Ange's though. The lummox had polished his off in about a minute and a half and well, to be honest, his leftovers weren't exactly appealing either. Ange made a beautiful job of delicately sawing the tops off her eggs so that there was scarcely a ragged shell to be seen whereas he had hacked his off like a deranged lumberjack, sending bits of shell hither and thither about the boat. One almost needs to wear safety glasses whilst he's attacking an egg. Also, Ange had eaten hers very daintily and that made the prospect more attractive compared to the dreadful savaging he gave to his eggs, clacking his tongue and slatching and slurping away, his lips curling and twisting around the spoon like a pair of angry eels fighting over a frog, flecks of yolk and albumen streaking his scruffy, straggly beard, his grubby, oil stained fingers plunging toasted soldiers into the centre like depth charges and spraying the eggs innards as far as the eye could see. Oh my word, it was awful to comprehend. By the time he was finished you'd have thought the eggs had been blasted apart with dynamite.
So I just ate some of Ange's and I thoroughly enjoyed it. So much so that next time they have boiled eggs I shall demand one all of my own and show the lummox how to eat it in a civilised manner.
P x
Tuesday, 17 September 2013
Rain
It's piss-wet through outside and I'm not happy. We're now at some place called Castleford and I'm not too happy with that either. The last place we stayed at after leaving that awful Leeds was Woodlesford which was great because I actually got two mice in the space of an hour or so. You should have seen the lummox taking the second one outside in his birthday suit. Good job it was dark! Fat oaf. I laughed to myself until tears came. Ange gave me some cross words and a few glances and even had the temerity to call me 'naughty!' Who does she think she is talking to me like that? I tried to catch another one to teach her a lesson but couldn't find one. Never mind. Maybe on the way back.
So here we are at Castleford, in the rain and I'm miffed. They know I don't like it so why bring me here. At the mooring there are places I can go when it rains, whilst here I have to console myself with hogging the bed all day our sprawling across the table to my hearts content. But don't worry gentle reader, for as soon as it stops I'm off out there and those rodents better be ready!
Apparently, there is also something wrong with the engine and they're waiting on somebody coming to fix it. A poor excuse if you ask me. I want to go back to Woodlesford!
P x
So here we are at Castleford, in the rain and I'm miffed. They know I don't like it so why bring me here. At the mooring there are places I can go when it rains, whilst here I have to console myself with hogging the bed all day our sprawling across the table to my hearts content. But don't worry gentle reader, for as soon as it stops I'm off out there and those rodents better be ready!
Apparently, there is also something wrong with the engine and they're waiting on somebody coming to fix it. A poor excuse if you ask me. I want to go back to Woodlesford!
P x
Friday, 13 September 2013
Leeds
Leeds my arse!!! And that's where you can shove it as well. I'd just got used to being at this Newlay place when they up anchored and spirited me away from there at the most ungodly hour (the holiday has started by the way). Apparently they'd had no sleep. Not my problem people, not my problem.
Oh sure, Ange tried to molly-coddle me before we left but that was just a ruse so that the lummox could sneak out and start the engine without me knowing about it. Underhanded beyond belief the pair of em!
And now, here am I at some place called Clarence Dock in Leeds and personally I wouldn't thank you for it. I have to make do with what is basically a glorified plank to exercise on with not a single blade of grass or mouse to be found anywhere.
Then they went off out and left me for the night so that they could go and fill themselves with beer and Korean food to within an inch of bursting. Well, you should have heard the telling off I gave them on their return. And as for the sulking, it was magnificent. I sulked and stalked about the roof of my boat for ages whilst they sat and stewed in the wheelhouse shamefully drinking wine and doing their best to appease me. Well raspberries to them I thought.
I don't like it here, so up yours Leeds. I want mice and I want them now!!!
P x
Oh sure, Ange tried to molly-coddle me before we left but that was just a ruse so that the lummox could sneak out and start the engine without me knowing about it. Underhanded beyond belief the pair of em!
And now, here am I at some place called Clarence Dock in Leeds and personally I wouldn't thank you for it. I have to make do with what is basically a glorified plank to exercise on with not a single blade of grass or mouse to be found anywhere.
Then they went off out and left me for the night so that they could go and fill themselves with beer and Korean food to within an inch of bursting. Well, you should have heard the telling off I gave them on their return. And as for the sulking, it was magnificent. I sulked and stalked about the roof of my boat for ages whilst they sat and stewed in the wheelhouse shamefully drinking wine and doing their best to appease me. Well raspberries to them I thought.
I don't like it here, so up yours Leeds. I want mice and I want them now!!!
P x
Tuesday, 3 September 2013
Shanghai'd
I thought he was just going to make a fuss of me. You know, all the petting and coochie cooing that is constantly going on around here. But he had an ulterior motive. The lummox had a plan up his sleeve and that plan was to Shanghai me onto the boat so that they could all go for another jolly up the canal. Instead of being molly-coddled I was carried onto my boat and before you could say "meow" the git had started the engine and we were off!
Oh they thought it was all so amusing. There was the lummox of course and also that Scouse hippie and an Irish lady called Ruth who I'd only just met but she seemed ok. Ange wasn't there and lucky for her or my wrath would have been complete. As it stands she remains in my favour.
So, miffed isn't the word, let me tell you. One moment you're on the mooring breathing threats to Snowy and the next you're half way up Dowley Gap Locks. Six days! Six bloody days we were out. Six days away from my mooring. We stayed at a place called Kildwick the first night, where Ange joined us, which was a nice enough place and whilst there I 'kild' a mouse (see what I did there) and left it in the kitchen for them to find. Hah!
We then went to Skipton. Been before so Yawnsville for me but they all seemed genuinely excited to be there so bully for them. On the way home we stayed at Booth's Swing Bridge which is nice enough but whilst there I was affronted at the Scouse hippie's suggestion that I was frightened by a hooting owl. I wasn't at all. It's just that I wanted to come inside really quickly at the exact time the owl hooted and it was pure coincidence. So shove it where the sun don't shine hippie! And remember who's got the claws around here or rue the day my Merseyside friend. Honestly, he comes here and then makes fun of I, Pixie Poo Poo. I don't know how I stand for it. It's bad enough having to listen to him blowing off every five minutes during the night and turning the air into a poisonous, unbreathable miasma with his over-productive abdomen, but then to suggest that I was spooked by a mere owl... why, the sheer naked audacity of the man.
We're back home now but there's talk of going out for three weeks starting next week. I'll sulk. By Jove I will. I'll sulk like I've never sulked before and this time they'd better be more careful about how they get me onto my boat. You have been warned people
P x
Oh they thought it was all so amusing. There was the lummox of course and also that Scouse hippie and an Irish lady called Ruth who I'd only just met but she seemed ok. Ange wasn't there and lucky for her or my wrath would have been complete. As it stands she remains in my favour.
So, miffed isn't the word, let me tell you. One moment you're on the mooring breathing threats to Snowy and the next you're half way up Dowley Gap Locks. Six days! Six bloody days we were out. Six days away from my mooring. We stayed at a place called Kildwick the first night, where Ange joined us, which was a nice enough place and whilst there I 'kild' a mouse (see what I did there) and left it in the kitchen for them to find. Hah!
We then went to Skipton. Been before so Yawnsville for me but they all seemed genuinely excited to be there so bully for them. On the way home we stayed at Booth's Swing Bridge which is nice enough but whilst there I was affronted at the Scouse hippie's suggestion that I was frightened by a hooting owl. I wasn't at all. It's just that I wanted to come inside really quickly at the exact time the owl hooted and it was pure coincidence. So shove it where the sun don't shine hippie! And remember who's got the claws around here or rue the day my Merseyside friend. Honestly, he comes here and then makes fun of I, Pixie Poo Poo. I don't know how I stand for it. It's bad enough having to listen to him blowing off every five minutes during the night and turning the air into a poisonous, unbreathable miasma with his over-productive abdomen, but then to suggest that I was spooked by a mere owl... why, the sheer naked audacity of the man.
We're back home now but there's talk of going out for three weeks starting next week. I'll sulk. By Jove I will. I'll sulk like I've never sulked before and this time they'd better be more careful about how they get me onto my boat. You have been warned people
P x
Sunday, 1 September 2013
Vet
So I went to the vet. And what a time it was. The lummox hoodwinked me to begin with by making me believe that he was shaking my biscuit box to let me know my tea was ready when in actual fact he was merely enticing me into capture. I fell for it and before I knew what was happening he had me seized and bundled into the cat basket with complete lack of ceremony and all done in the most ignominious of manners. My basket may be a Cat Voyageur 200, the crème de la crème of baskets, but I still need to enter it with dignity and pride.
I demonstrated my annoyance in the only way befitting. I shat in the basket once we were in the car. The lummox was the first to detect the odour and it serves him right. It was truly a crap to be proud of as well. A hot, acrid, eye burning, toe curling stench that seared the nostrils, coated the taste buds and left them both gagging for air through the open car windows. Oh sure, they did their best to remain nonchalant and both simpered and whinnied at me all the way to the vets which was ok but I was just glad that they would have the task of cleaning up my excrement later on.
Once we had arrived at the vet things took a turn for the better. The vet herself was very nice and seems to have a way with cats. I took full opportunity to pose and preen and show her what a fine specimen she was dealing with. I received an injection and a tablet and my humans were given instructions as to what to do when we get home. And surely even they can follow those.
The only disappointment I had with the vet was that she had a member of her staff clean the basket and so I was forced to soil it again on the drive home in order that those two might learn to treat me in a way that I deserve. Take that humans.
I'm much better now though so I suppose it was all worth it in the end. My skin is soft and my coat is truly luxurious once more. So thank you vet, you shall remain off my shit list for now.
P x
I demonstrated my annoyance in the only way befitting. I shat in the basket once we were in the car. The lummox was the first to detect the odour and it serves him right. It was truly a crap to be proud of as well. A hot, acrid, eye burning, toe curling stench that seared the nostrils, coated the taste buds and left them both gagging for air through the open car windows. Oh sure, they did their best to remain nonchalant and both simpered and whinnied at me all the way to the vets which was ok but I was just glad that they would have the task of cleaning up my excrement later on.
Once we had arrived at the vet things took a turn for the better. The vet herself was very nice and seems to have a way with cats. I took full opportunity to pose and preen and show her what a fine specimen she was dealing with. I received an injection and a tablet and my humans were given instructions as to what to do when we get home. And surely even they can follow those.
The only disappointment I had with the vet was that she had a member of her staff clean the basket and so I was forced to soil it again on the drive home in order that those two might learn to treat me in a way that I deserve. Take that humans.
I'm much better now though so I suppose it was all worth it in the end. My skin is soft and my coat is truly luxurious once more. So thank you vet, you shall remain off my shit list for now.
P x
Tuesday, 20 August 2013
Fleas
Becky - her that lives in the cottage - has recently had an operation. That meant that my pair were playing Florence Nightingale for most of the week and therefore I have been left to my own devices quite a lot. Which is ok I suppose, given the circumstances, after all; she did look after me when those two cleared off to Whitby. The problem is that the fleas are back and I've been bitten all to buggery by them and now I need some attention too.
I blame Snowy and Sooty of course (and the dog) as they are completely riddled with them. Oh yes, you can pass it all off on the hot weather etc etc but at the end of the day it's a clear cut case of good old fashioned feline hygiene and it's about time someone taught the two of them to wash behind their ears. And as for the dog...
Anyway, I overheard Ange ringing the vets this morning and making an appointment for me. And about-bloody-time too! I'll let you know how I get on but he had better be careful where he sticks that needle or he'll rue the day.
P x
I blame Snowy and Sooty of course (and the dog) as they are completely riddled with them. Oh yes, you can pass it all off on the hot weather etc etc but at the end of the day it's a clear cut case of good old fashioned feline hygiene and it's about time someone taught the two of them to wash behind their ears. And as for the dog...
Anyway, I overheard Ange ringing the vets this morning and making an appointment for me. And about-bloody-time too! I'll let you know how I get on but he had better be careful where he sticks that needle or he'll rue the day.
P x
Friday, 9 August 2013
Salmon
Ange and the lummox had salmon for tea last night. Fresh, tasty, juicy salmon fillets that were cooked to purrfection (see what I did there). You can imagine no doubt my excitement as they prepared the meal, expectantly waiting for a huge piece of the fish to be placed and exquisitely presented in my bowl.
Well...
It didn't happen. No, they sat and gorged themselves until they could barely stand whilst I sat on the roof giving them the cold shoulder until I could stand it no longer. I put my head through the pigeon box and gave them the meowing of a lifetime. This finally galvanised them into action. Well, Ange at least. The bearded idiot just continued to sit on his fat arse and laugh about how cute I looked. Of course I do, everybody knows that, I don't need that oaf to remind me! But Ange gave me some salmon. She brought it out to me whilst I waited and tapped my paw impatiently on the roof.
This put her in my good books (for now) but as for the lummox, I made his night a misery by hogging his side of the bed and taking as much of the quilt as I could. Next time fat boy bring me some salmon! Or better still, cook three pieces. You have been warned!
Salmon indeed!!!
P x
Well...
It didn't happen. No, they sat and gorged themselves until they could barely stand whilst I sat on the roof giving them the cold shoulder until I could stand it no longer. I put my head through the pigeon box and gave them the meowing of a lifetime. This finally galvanised them into action. Well, Ange at least. The bearded idiot just continued to sit on his fat arse and laugh about how cute I looked. Of course I do, everybody knows that, I don't need that oaf to remind me! But Ange gave me some salmon. She brought it out to me whilst I waited and tapped my paw impatiently on the roof.
This put her in my good books (for now) but as for the lummox, I made his night a misery by hogging his side of the bed and taking as much of the quilt as I could. Next time fat boy bring me some salmon! Or better still, cook three pieces. You have been warned!
Salmon indeed!!!
P x
Wednesday, 7 August 2013
Sleep
I'm back!!!
Yes, Pixie Poo Poo is her old self and raring to go again. I've been rather poorly you see. I have an allergy to flea bites and for a start how dare they bite me! And I'm such a clean living cat that I can't for a moment imagine how I get them. Probably picked them up from Snowy and Sooty and the dog. Then of course this added to the heat we've been experiencing lately and voila! one poorly puddy tat.
But I'm ok now. The humans cossetted and molly-coddled me very well, especially Ange but even the bearded lummox did his bit too. I was given some drops on the back of my lovely neck which put the kibosh on the fleas and my diet has been altered whereby I only allow the food I need to be put out and not a whole packet of the stuff. This also has the added effect of stopping the dog from pinching it.
I now have a new favourite place to sleep, a lovely clothes basket in the bedroom. Why it wasn't set aside for me in the first place I don't know and woe betide them should they ever start to put clothes in it again. It's great though. I get my nightly snooze on the bed interspersed with my mooring patrols, then I have breakfast followed by my beauty sleep before hitting the basket for my mid morning nap, a spot of lunch followed by another quick patrol and then afternoon siesta. A quick kip in the evening after tea and then it starts all over again. it's a good routine and one that I enjoy immensely.
The humans are talking about cruising again - The navigation or some such - and thus my routine will be loudly interrupted. I take great offence to this because it is my boat when all's said and done but then, I suppose, if they're going to have a holiday then they're damn well going to take me with them.
TTFN
P
Yes, Pixie Poo Poo is her old self and raring to go again. I've been rather poorly you see. I have an allergy to flea bites and for a start how dare they bite me! And I'm such a clean living cat that I can't for a moment imagine how I get them. Probably picked them up from Snowy and Sooty and the dog. Then of course this added to the heat we've been experiencing lately and voila! one poorly puddy tat.
But I'm ok now. The humans cossetted and molly-coddled me very well, especially Ange but even the bearded lummox did his bit too. I was given some drops on the back of my lovely neck which put the kibosh on the fleas and my diet has been altered whereby I only allow the food I need to be put out and not a whole packet of the stuff. This also has the added effect of stopping the dog from pinching it.
I now have a new favourite place to sleep, a lovely clothes basket in the bedroom. Why it wasn't set aside for me in the first place I don't know and woe betide them should they ever start to put clothes in it again. It's great though. I get my nightly snooze on the bed interspersed with my mooring patrols, then I have breakfast followed by my beauty sleep before hitting the basket for my mid morning nap, a spot of lunch followed by another quick patrol and then afternoon siesta. A quick kip in the evening after tea and then it starts all over again. it's a good routine and one that I enjoy immensely.
The humans are talking about cruising again - The navigation or some such - and thus my routine will be loudly interrupted. I take great offence to this because it is my boat when all's said and done but then, I suppose, if they're going to have a holiday then they're damn well going to take me with them.
TTFN
P
Wednesday, 31 July 2013
Poorly
I've been a poorly Pixie lately so apologies to all my many, many fans out there on the world-inter-wide-net-web for the lack of posts. Normal service will now be resumed!
Thank you
Thank you
Tuesday, 16 July 2013
Beauty
It's not easy staying this gorgeous.
It takes a lot of time and effort. Firstly there's my beauty sleep, approximately 8 hours a day, not including night time when I jump on and off the bed and jostle with the lummox for the right hand side of the mattress. Ange is far more cooperative with the other side. It can get annoying because after all it is my bed and they're only borrowing it.
Then there is the matter of eating only the finest cat food money can buy. I'll refuse cheap shite every time and will not assail my guts with such offal. My luxurious fur is a testimony to this fact.
After that comes my exercise regime. This involves chasing mice, chasing sooty and snowy, jumping noisily around the roof of my boat whilst the humans sleep and climbing whatever I like whenever I like.
Add to all this the rolling around in dust and ash and lolling around in front of the fire and it all adds up to me. Pixie - the most stunning thing you ever saw.
It takes a lot of time and effort. Firstly there's my beauty sleep, approximately 8 hours a day, not including night time when I jump on and off the bed and jostle with the lummox for the right hand side of the mattress. Ange is far more cooperative with the other side. It can get annoying because after all it is my bed and they're only borrowing it.
Then there is the matter of eating only the finest cat food money can buy. I'll refuse cheap shite every time and will not assail my guts with such offal. My luxurious fur is a testimony to this fact.
After that comes my exercise regime. This involves chasing mice, chasing sooty and snowy, jumping noisily around the roof of my boat whilst the humans sleep and climbing whatever I like whenever I like.
Add to all this the rolling around in dust and ash and lolling around in front of the fire and it all adds up to me. Pixie - the most stunning thing you ever saw.
Friday, 12 July 2013
Cream
I had cream for breakfast yesterday. Cream! All well and good I hear you say but what about today? No cream this morning and they can consider themselves unacceptable those humans. Teasing me with cream one day and then nothing the next. Am I not worth the price of a container of cream every day? I'm not going to be too fussy about it either. It doesn't have to be the finest clotted cream from Cornwall or anything, although naturally it really ought to be. No, I will happily slum it and put up with your basic single cream from the local deli-cat-essen (see what I did there!).
Apparently, and to top it all, this particular cream upon which I breakfasted was left over from some spicy food that they prepared for themselves the night before. Left overs!!! They couldn't even be arsed to buy me my own container of cream but instead poured out the stuff they didn't want. I'm affronted. Affronted, disgusted and frankly a little dismayed in them and it was with an indignant air of begrudgement that I lapped it up.
And I suppose, if truth be known, I shall have to wait until they manufacture spicy food again before I am treated to cream once more. But I'll tell you one thing, if they even dream about giving me Elmlea or any of those other cream wannabe's then they shall rue the day.
P x
Apparently, and to top it all, this particular cream upon which I breakfasted was left over from some spicy food that they prepared for themselves the night before. Left overs!!! They couldn't even be arsed to buy me my own container of cream but instead poured out the stuff they didn't want. I'm affronted. Affronted, disgusted and frankly a little dismayed in them and it was with an indignant air of begrudgement that I lapped it up.
And I suppose, if truth be known, I shall have to wait until they manufacture spicy food again before I am treated to cream once more. But I'll tell you one thing, if they even dream about giving me Elmlea or any of those other cream wannabe's then they shall rue the day.
P x
Wednesday, 10 July 2013
Interlopers
My boat, my mooring, my rules
And the sooner Snowy understands that then the better off we'll all be. You see, he's taken to wandering around the place at all hours. In and out of the boat, up and down the mooring. He even has the temerity to eat my food when my back is turned. And what do the humans do? They 'ooh' and 'aah' at him like it's all just fine simply because he's still technically a kitten.
Well I won't stand for it.
Why only the other day I was forced to give him a short, sharp shock as he tried to scuttle away from me across the mooring. I caught him with a fierce couple of paws. A swift right hander to his lughole followed by a hefty left that sent him speeding back to the safety of the cottage in no time. That put his tail firmly betwixt his legs I can tell you.
Some days, especially if it's too hot, I tolerate his presence as that seems to please the humans and only cements my reputation as the most gorgeous one around here. But woe betide if he gets too close and if he ever gets on my bed again... I'll have him. The only other people I allow on there are Ange and Al and that's just because they feed me - A favour for a favour and all that.
And as for that Stella...
One of these days...
And the sooner Snowy understands that then the better off we'll all be. You see, he's taken to wandering around the place at all hours. In and out of the boat, up and down the mooring. He even has the temerity to eat my food when my back is turned. And what do the humans do? They 'ooh' and 'aah' at him like it's all just fine simply because he's still technically a kitten.
Well I won't stand for it.
Why only the other day I was forced to give him a short, sharp shock as he tried to scuttle away from me across the mooring. I caught him with a fierce couple of paws. A swift right hander to his lughole followed by a hefty left that sent him speeding back to the safety of the cottage in no time. That put his tail firmly betwixt his legs I can tell you.
Some days, especially if it's too hot, I tolerate his presence as that seems to please the humans and only cements my reputation as the most gorgeous one around here. But woe betide if he gets too close and if he ever gets on my bed again... I'll have him. The only other people I allow on there are Ange and Al and that's just because they feed me - A favour for a favour and all that.
And as for that Stella...
One of these days...
Saturday, 6 July 2013
Whitby
How very dare they!!!
Home alone, that’s what I’ve been. Abandoned, forgotten and
uncared for. Left to my own devices and forced to live in what is tantamount to squalour. ME!!! Pixie Poo Poo!!!
They packed a bag and buggered off for a jolly to Whitby.
You should have seen them – laughing and joking like they didn’t have a care in
the world. All they could think about was poncing around the seaside
whilst I had to look after my boat all on my own. Good God they’ll have me
emptying my own litter tray next.
Well sod ‘em!
I’ll teach them not to treat me in such a shabby fashion and
have embarked on a campaign of constant mouse catching and in leaving said mice
outside the bathroom door for them to find in the morning. Let’s see how the
redhead and the lummox like that. Leave me alone overnight will you? At your
peril my friends, at your peril.
Oh sure, they instructed the one they call Becky to feed me
and to be fair to her she did well enough, a little more fuss would have been
better but for now she’ll hold my favour, but those other two… they shall know the
wrath of Pixie Poo Poo.
In time I shall forgive them of course. I’m not a cat to
hold a grudge but it’s going to take a lot more than the box of Whiskas
Casserole Selection they returned with to smooth over the cracks in this one. Whitby indeed!!!
Sunday, 30 June 2013
Food
During our enforced, unnecessary and frankly ignominious incarceration at Howarth Cat Rescue my brother and I had to content ourselves with whatever fayre was presented to us. As you will no doubt surmise this ranged through the whole gamut of cheaper end cat food. I understand of course that the poor things were doing their best to provide a substantial meal but please, to think that I, Pixie Poo Poo should have to resort to such measures. Well, it simply doesn't bear the proverbial.
Then, one day (I believe it was a Sunday) some people arrived and after much simpering and mauling on their behalf my brother and decided that they should be allowed to take us from that place. To be fair to them, they did and here I am now on my own boat. But, can you imagine my horror when on the journey to Dowley Gap they stopped off at Aldi. ALDI! Of All places! Not Marks and Sparks but Aldi for crying out loud. I let it go at the time as I was in a rather cramped position in a basket (oh the humiliation). The man went into the shop whilst the woman - Ange remained in the car to simper some more at us. When we finally arrived at my boat I was incensed to notice that he had purchased a brand of cat food known as Vitacat. Vita-bloody-cat! I ask you. Again, to keep the peace, I let it go and gradually, over time, they learned to correctly provide us with Whiskas.
That all sounds well and good doesn't it but I'm a discerning cat with a sophisticated palate and well, (I'll just cut to the chase here), I'm bored of Bite 'n' Chew now and have registered this in the strongest possible manner. So I was quite excited when they returned from a foraging expedition on Friday with a new and shiny looking container with which they looked rather pleased with themselves about. And what do you suppose was in it? VITACAT!!!
Oh it was some dressed up, posh and poncy Vitacat in pate but Vitacat all the same and in my book you just can't pull the wool over my gorgeous eyes. I sulked, oh yes I did, and as a result there are now several sachets of IAMs in the cupboard. It seems agreeable and I'll tolerate it for now until my palate dictates otherwise, but they'd seriously better watch their step from now on. Who do they think they are dealing with here?
Then, one day (I believe it was a Sunday) some people arrived and after much simpering and mauling on their behalf my brother and decided that they should be allowed to take us from that place. To be fair to them, they did and here I am now on my own boat. But, can you imagine my horror when on the journey to Dowley Gap they stopped off at Aldi. ALDI! Of All places! Not Marks and Sparks but Aldi for crying out loud. I let it go at the time as I was in a rather cramped position in a basket (oh the humiliation). The man went into the shop whilst the woman - Ange remained in the car to simper some more at us. When we finally arrived at my boat I was incensed to notice that he had purchased a brand of cat food known as Vitacat. Vita-bloody-cat! I ask you. Again, to keep the peace, I let it go and gradually, over time, they learned to correctly provide us with Whiskas.
That all sounds well and good doesn't it but I'm a discerning cat with a sophisticated palate and well, (I'll just cut to the chase here), I'm bored of Bite 'n' Chew now and have registered this in the strongest possible manner. So I was quite excited when they returned from a foraging expedition on Friday with a new and shiny looking container with which they looked rather pleased with themselves about. And what do you suppose was in it? VITACAT!!!
Oh it was some dressed up, posh and poncy Vitacat in pate but Vitacat all the same and in my book you just can't pull the wool over my gorgeous eyes. I sulked, oh yes I did, and as a result there are now several sachets of IAMs in the cupboard. It seems agreeable and I'll tolerate it for now until my palate dictates otherwise, but they'd seriously better watch their step from now on. Who do they think they are dealing with here?
Saturday, 29 June 2013
Gifts
Being such a generous and benevolent cat means that from time to time I bestow gifts upon the humans. They seemed so tired last night so I thought that I would go out whilst they were asleep, catch me a mouse and present it to them at half past five in the morning.
It took a while to find one and if I'm going to be honest it was a poor specimen at best but it's the thought that counts. I did get a bit side tracked at times but then when you're queen of all you survey that's understandable. But I did catch one and hastened back to my boat with my tail in the air to give it to them.
I put on my very best "I've caught something" meow to wake them up, as it was clearly a suitable hour for humans to arise, and was a little disappointed that only the male of the species heard me. He did get up however. The female I'm not so sure about as I don't see how she could have failed to have heard me. I'll let it go this time but in future she'd better jump to it!
Anyway, the man got up, took one look at my mouse, said something unintelligible in his gruff morning voice, picked up my gift and then, and this really got my goat, threw it into the canal. Idiot! No idea what to do with a dead mouse. Honestly, there are times when I just don't know how I put up with the pair of them. Like I said, on this occasion I will let it go because yesterday they bought me some new cat food to try. I'll give it a whirl but if I don't like it then mark my words they'll know about it. In the meantime I'll have to work how to get them to appreciate my little presents properly.
It took a while to find one and if I'm going to be honest it was a poor specimen at best but it's the thought that counts. I did get a bit side tracked at times but then when you're queen of all you survey that's understandable. But I did catch one and hastened back to my boat with my tail in the air to give it to them.
I put on my very best "I've caught something" meow to wake them up, as it was clearly a suitable hour for humans to arise, and was a little disappointed that only the male of the species heard me. He did get up however. The female I'm not so sure about as I don't see how she could have failed to have heard me. I'll let it go this time but in future she'd better jump to it!
Anyway, the man got up, took one look at my mouse, said something unintelligible in his gruff morning voice, picked up my gift and then, and this really got my goat, threw it into the canal. Idiot! No idea what to do with a dead mouse. Honestly, there are times when I just don't know how I put up with the pair of them. Like I said, on this occasion I will let it go because yesterday they bought me some new cat food to try. I'll give it a whirl but if I don't like it then mark my words they'll know about it. In the meantime I'll have to work how to get them to appreciate my little presents properly.
Friday, 28 June 2013
Salutations!
I am Pixie - Pixie Poo Poo. And this is my diary.
I live at Dowley Gap on my boat Walrus
I allow two humans, I believe they're called Ange and Al or some such, to live with me. I tolerate their presence and in return they provide me with all the cat food I can eat. It's a good arrangement and they adhere to my rules most of the time. Because of this I give them access to the bed during the hours of darkness when, for some reason, they choose to do their sleeping rather than stalking Dowley Gap looking for mice or bullying Snowy and Sooty (two young upstarts who live in a nearby cottage with other humans and that dog Stella). Why Ange and Al decide to live like this is their business and frankly I care not one iota suffice to say as long as they're happy, continue to feed me, empty my litter tray, keep the fire in during winter and cosset me in any which way I desire then I shall allow their strange practices to continue.
As you can see from my photo (the man - Al, helped me upload it) I'm perhaps the most gorgeous looking thing you ever saw and my two humans regularly endorse this fact with all the billing and cooing they do in my direction. Get's tiresome after a while but to keep the poor things from getting upset I put up with the all slobbering nonsense they come out with and endure all the stroking and petting with which they ceaselessly assault me. But do you know what? I'm worth it!
Yes, I'm the bees knees around here and this is my online diary
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