Scotland

So they've gone off again. Scotland this time. All the bloody way to the Highlands in that van of theirs. I can just imagine the sort of sordid things they get up to in there as well - drinking wine and eating chocolate until it comes out of their ears and then lying in that made up bed, farting and snoring till the sun comes up. Actually, now I think about it, that's sounds pretty much like what normally happens here at the weekends. So why go off to Scotland and leave me behind???

The one they call Lucy who owns that red boat next door has been invited to stay and look after me and to be fair to her she's doing a fairly decent job of it. She's good at making a fuss and food is always presented when I demand it. But if I've said it once I've said it a thousand times - what gives them the right to go off and have a good time without me. Especially all the way up there!!! And can you just imagine the lummox wearing a kilt? Ugh! It's enough to put me off my Dreamies. As for a sporran - don't even go there!

Scotland! Pfffff!

P x

Mozzy

It really is choice and quite funny to see. Funny, and somewhat grotesque. The Lummox has been bitten in the leg by some winged creature and it has turned septic. You ought to see him limping around like some doddering old man, wincing and moaning in infected pain. But I ask you, what a nancing great jessy of a man he is. One little bite from a mosquito and you'd think he was on his way to the emergency ward. I've sat and watched him rubbing cream on it and filling his system with anti-biotics. Pathetic. Do I pfaff about like that when I get a flea bite? Do I buggery! No, a quick scratch and I'm on my way (although they will insist on squirting that stuff on the back of my beautiful neck every month).

Normally, I enjoy chasing winged insects around the roof of my boat and mauling them but I think, on the balance of things, I may just leave them alone for a while because of the good laugh they've given me on this occasion.

P x

Gastronomy

I wish I liked cake. I really do. Because that would be a perfect way to describe how I get those two to feed me whatever I damn well please - a piece of cake. And make no mistake, if I did like cake then I would soon get me some and one of that pair would do it at my bidding.

The thing is you see, I'm so very gorgeous, (beguiling I think I heard Ange say) and when you are so purrfectly (see what I did there) adorable it becomes quite, quite easy to get your own way in life. And it's as simple as this:

Ange or the lummox will open a tin or sachet of cat food. I am then presented with two choices - I either eat it or I turn my nose up at it, depending on what kind of mood I'm in. If I choose not to eat it this sends them into a state of all sorts of panic, worrying what on earth to do but always leads to them rushing out to buy me something else. It's not that I don't like what they served up (although sometimes it has been shite and I've voiced my opinion on that before) it's just that I get bored easily plus I want to see what they're going to turn up with next. And the more I do it the more panicked they get and the more money will be spent on trying to find me the right cat food and very often the most expensive. And quite rightly so!

But what it also leads to is gastronomic comestibles that humans would normally eat themselves. Seriously, I've had salmon, tuna, chicken, ham, beef, sausages, eggs, you name it! I've had all sorts just by turning my nose up and I even turn it up at that stuff sometimes which totally freaks them out. It's great fun and the best of it is, sometimes I do it because I'm just not feeling that hungry at the time.

Like I said at the start, I don't like cake. But if I did, I'd have my cake and eat it and that pair would rush out and get me it that's for sure.

P x

Roof

I think you'll agree gentle reader that the simple things in life are so often the best. Even for a cat of my refined tastes. And when I say simple I don't mean simple as in the lummox who is merely a simpleton. No, I refer to the simple pleasures. And one of my very great simple pleasures at this time of year is to roll about the metal roof of my boat in the sunshine. That's when lummoxy isn't attacking it with that whining, grinding sander that he's bought, convincing himself and no-one else that he's some kind of metalwork expert when in reality we all know what a ham-fisted great tool he is.

But the roof, ah the roof. On a sunny day when the metal is hot I love to leap up there (displaying my natural dexterity and athleticism) and loll about for an hour or so, letting the warmth surround my fur and making me feel fab. Unlike humans you see, who have an aversion to things being too hot, we cats are extremely fond of hot places and that is why we will happily spend many hours in front of a fire or on top of a radiator or indeed a metal roof if the chance arises. And that's just what I have been doing a lot of recently. The weather has been good and I've been up there sunning myself for all I'm worth - and that's quite a lot.

There are other fun activities to do on the roof as well as rolling around. There are flies and moths to butcher, there are pigeon boxes and a mast to claw at, there is bunting to bat with my paws and so on. Why, it's a proverbial pussy playground up there. Anyway, I'm off now to work on my tan.

P x

Rabbit

There's a rabbit on my mooring. A RABBIT!!! Not a wild one that I can chase and claw at but a grey and white tame thing that the humans have put there on purpose. ON MY BLOODY MOORING!!! The sheer gall of it. No-one asked my permission if they could put it there and from what I can gather it's sole purpose in life is to eat, poo and make the humans turn into gushing jellies and want to cuddle it. It's got it's own little two storey house and a special wire enclosure for it to exercise in which I think is no more than a reuse to stop me from getting at the thing and letting it know who is numero uno around here.

It's a strange set up when you think about it. Humans keep animals as pets. That may be true with most animals but with us cats it's the other way round. We're not as docile as dogs, rabbits, hamsters, goldfish, parakeets, chinchillas and dogs (I mention dogs twice because of their intense docility). With us though it's different. The humans are there to serve, cosset and molly-coddle us in whatever way we desire and woe betide if they should fail in that as many have found out to their peril.

So now we have this situation where there is a rabbit on my mooring, taking up mouse stalking space and being a general nuisance. Oh sure, it might look cute and fluffy to them but it's probably costing a small fortune in carrots, lettuce and hay, money that could, would and should be better spent on tins of salmon for yours truly. And of course the biggest slap in the mush is that now they won't even buy me packets of food with rabbit in, that's the effect it's had on them. Piss poor beyond belief!!! The next thing you know they'll have it on my boat and that will be the final straw let me tell you that!

P x

Van

They've gone and bought a campervan, Ange and the lummox. And you ought to see the pair of them, like big bloody kids getting all excited. Honestly, it's enough to make you bring up a furball the way they prance about the thing and ooh and aah over it. Personally I don't know what all the fuss is about, it's just a vehicle at the end of the day. I've even been in it - they took me to the vet - and to say that I was underwhelmed by it is an understatement of epic proportions. It's just a van, people, just a van. Calm down.

But here's what gets me the most - the bloody thing has got a bed in the back of it. And a cooker and a sink and a fridge and even a human litter box. So you can no doubt guess where this is leading to. Yes, that's right, they go poncing off out and sleep in it. Truthfully! They go out for the night and actually sleep in the back of a van - FOR FUN!!! These humans have some strange ideas of what fun is I must say. Personally, I prefer to sleep on a big double bed but hey, if that's what turns them on then good luck to them. But of course that means that when they're off on their travels I'm sat here servantless on my own with nought but several platefuls of food that Ange puts out for me before they go. It's not good enough. It's never good enough and I let them know this on their return.

There's talk of them going to Scotland for a week in July. A whole week nancing around the Highlands in that thing whilst I'm here on me todd! Mind you, there is one good thing about it. I shall be able to hunt to my heart's content and catch as many mice as I want without that pair squealing about it so on that note they can bugger off and do as they please and leave me to my own devices.

Van my arse

P x

Festival

That Steve had better watch his step. Nay! He should watch his back. I've said it before and I'll say it again - I refuse to be manhandled. What part of it don't they understand? We'll all go for a jolly cruise on my boat when I'm good and f***ing ready! There I was sunning myself on the compost heap and working on my tan when the lummox started the old biscuit rattling bit. Like a fool (or a dog) I fell for it again but realising my mistake at the last moment I nipped up onto the roof. I knew what his lummoxy little game was and I nearly let the oaf get away with it. But then, whilst my back was turned Mirfield crept up behind me, seized me in his mitts and had me down the stairs before I could get my claws into him. And it shall not be forgotten in a hurry!!! The indignity of it!

So off we went to Skipton again. I can take it or leave the place personally and this whole boat festival thing that goes on each year just seems like an excuse for them all to get loaded with food and drink and spend a gay old time in the gateway to the Dales farting and belching. I thought at one point on the Sunday night that the lummox must have followed through, such was the terrible noise he made in bed. Yes, yes he must have done.

The thing is, there's never anything at the poxy festival to interest a cat. What am I supposed to do for three days for crying out loud? Mooch about the boat reading old copies of Vanity Fur and Cosmeowpolitan (see what I did there?)? I'm buggered if I'm going to set foot on that dog strewn towpath during the hours of daylight. So I have to endure 6 hours of that bloody roaring great engine each way there and back just so they can all have a piss up in a different location and then spend all my time there in bed or glaring at them from the kitchen table. The dog seemed excited to be there but then the dog gets excited when it picks a sweaty sock up in it's mouth so that's no recommendation is it?

Still, I'm busy plotting my revenge now that we're home again and I'll let you know how that goes

P x