Berk

Oaf! That's what he is. The lummox I mean. What a ridiculous great lumbering buffoon of a man he is. He ruined everything on Friday night. I went out a-hunting and caught me a fine juicy mouse but rather than dispatch it there and then on the mooring I decided to take it home and share it with the humans. No doubt, I thought, they would be most impressed at my skill and dexterity in catching the beastly thing and would watch in glowing admiration whilst I administered the fatal bite. But no. Ange started screaming at me like you wouldn't believe which obviously distracted me from the mouse and then the lummox prodded the creature thinking it to be dead and then reacted like a big girls blouse when it got up and scurried away under the wardrobe. He was too slow and inept to catch it. I gave pursuit of course but by then it was too late and we had a live one running loose on my boat.

I gave them both the meowing of a lifetime to let them know in no uncertain terms exactly what I thought of them. Ange continued to berate me whilst the lummox began to hopelessly move furniture in a vain attempt to recapture the rodent. I ignored it all and continued to remain vigilant in case the mouse should reappear - it didn't. The uproar caused by the humans had obviously startled it into finding a good hiding place. I had to wait until gone ten o'clock before it resurfaced and I pounced like a good 'un when it did. Unfortunately it's alarmed squeaking alerted Ange and the berk once more and after quite a tussle he managed to get the mouse off me. 'Sod it' I thought to myself, 'have the wretched thing if it means that much to you' and I let him keep it. But do you know what he did then (and this really gets my goat) he marched it outside and released it in the undergrowth!!!

I was incandescent with rage let me tell you. Two and a half hours I waited for that mouse and he lets it go. I'll have him, don't you worry about that. The pair of them had better watch their step form now on. They turned a simple little mouse hunt into an absolute farce with all their squealing and carrying on. It was as bad as that time the scouse hippie took that vole off me. Who do they all think they are?

In future I shall dispatch my mice before getting onto the boat and I might even consider leaving one in the lummox's slipper again. Let's see how he likes that.

P x

Mud

It's everywhere and I'm reaching the end of my tether with it. You can't move on my mooring without your paws being caked in mud. Then when I go onto my boat it gets trampled everywhere. My towel is covered in muddy pawprints, as is the table, kitchen cupboard, couch, armchair, pouffe, bed etc etc. In fact anywhere I decide to put my gorgeous paws. And it does nothing for my luxuriant fur. Yes, you could blame it on all the heavy rain we've been having but I much prefer to blame it on those two. Particularly the lummox. What's the improvident lackwit playing at? Why doesn't he get his fat arse out there and do something about it? Instead he just comes home after a days work and sits on it - his fat arse I mean, not the mud. I've tried meowing at him on countless occasions but the berk just thinks I'm being cute and keeps asking me what the matter is. I'll tell you what the matter is oh large one - I'm sick of all the bleeding mud. Now get out there and do something about it.

To be honest I'm getting sick of his hopelessness and have started to snub him, choosing instead to make a big fuss of Ange all the time, sitting on her lap for hours on end until her legs go numb, diving onto her fromm the window sill when she's asleep, butting her with my head when she's trying to read and all other manner of catty cuteness that she loves. No doubt this is making the lummox immensely jealous but he's no-one to blame but himself. But I'm not a cat to harbour grudges. As soon as he gets out there and gets rid of all that mud I shall allow him to make a fuss of me once more. And, in due time, I shall sleep on his chest again (with clean paws).

P x