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

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

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

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

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

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

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