Sunday, 24 July 2011

Smashed vase

For the first time ever I saw a surge of annoyance darken my woman’s face. Well what I mean to say is: she does get annoyed a lot. Usually with the man, though. Never at ME. It must have been the startling smash of pot on wood that made her jump out of bed and stumble downstairs to survey the scene. Well yes, it was 4.30 in the morning and I know that my slaves don’t like their napping interrupted but it was only a vase for Bast’s sake. Although - I have to admit - its cracking was loud. Do I have a conscience? Nah, not really. I was more surprised than sorry.

Looking at the remains this morning I can see that it could be mended. A spot of glue might restore it to its former glory and then my woman could buy it some flowers as she does for the other vases. Now that’s got me thinking. What sport might be got from knocking over the window vase displaying its bouquet of roses?

Tuesday, 12 July 2011

The Four Elements

Just because we spend most of our life indoors doesn’t mean we can’t be in tune with the elements of nature. The potted plants supply us with earth in which we can dig and scatter making the floor look good and messy. Of course, it makes our slaves angry especially when they’ve just put the Dyson back in the cupboard.
But earth is never as much fun as fire. Flame is seriously hot stuff and on occasion has scorched my whiskers and left me with stumps.

And let’s not forget water - my sister can catch drips like a lizard would catch flies.

Wind? How very dare you!

Tuesday, 5 July 2011


My woman has written a poem about us.

My Cat


You are a predatory stalker on weaponed feet
Alert to the pin-drop rustle of a mouse,
With your stalkers' mean eye and irascible tail-tip twitch.
You are a lone hunter; black-hearted as a gunman,
Camouflaged only in iniquitous silence,
Defying the bell of human kindness.
Now you are coiled and controlled -
Burnished and blood-thirsty,
Ready to accelerate into the kill.


You wear a whiskered mask of congeniality
As you stretch out velvet paws of kindness;
On my lap, curled into your own opulence of fur and jewels.
Unfurled now - soft-bellied and yielding -
Allowing the eagerness of a peach-skin caress.
I'm under a spell of feline euphony
Your symphonic seduction of crescendo purrs.

Monday, 27 June 2011

Chopper Bird

The things I see from my backyard. Today a giant mechanical chopper bird flew overhead and landed on the playing field. The noise it made was enough to send me scuttling indoors for cover. It nearly blew my whiskers off with its whizzing wings.

It was much bigger than the blackbird which feeds on the sultanas my woman sprinkles on the garden wall. 


Thursday, 23 June 2011

Talk to the Paws

Listen! She's at it again:
I've just eaten my second meal of the day - so she can't be opening another chicken pouch.
I'm just going to ignore her... [yawn].

Oh shut up why don't you? It'll just be one of those banal comments like "Who's a lovely pussy cat?" or "Aren't you a good boy then?" or the more scruff-cringing "Who's my little poppet?" Talk to the paws Mrs Slave.
"Teddy - would you like a chew stick?"

Eh, what!? Well why didn't you say!?

Tuesday, 14 June 2011


It began with me sticking my tongue out at my brother. Boys will be boys and he just had to stick his tongue out just that little bit further.

“Beat that sister!!” he bragged.

And I did.

Sunday, 12 June 2011


Okay - I’m a house cat and as such am unable to climb trees. Instead I climb slaves. My man makes a particularly good tree. His trouser legs come in useful as a trunk on which I can sharpen my fine claws. But best of all he’s good and tall and I can shin up him and look down upon my sister and my woman who both look rather tiny from up here.

Dear oh dear my servants are slacking. Just look at all that muck on top of the kitchen wall units. Oh look there’s my biscuit jar. What ho Jeeves! I’m feeling rather peckish. Get me something to eat. Immediately.