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

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

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

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.

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

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...

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!!!