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. 

  

Talk to the Paws

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

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!?

Tongues

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.

Trees

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.

Leads

I’m embarrassed to say that there are times in our life when we are treated like dogs. Mainly when the sun is out and our slaves need to let its rays colour their flesh. They put on our harnesses (I’m ashamed that mine is toy-poodle-pink; a darker shade than my sister’s harness but nonetheless – pink) and they attach leashes and we have to wait by the backdoor while they find sunglasses and butter themselves with sun cream. We are allowed out but like dogs we are hassled by leads.

Our garden has a high stone wall and beyond that are noisy mechanical slave carriers that hoot and screech and squash creatures like hedgehogs into raw mince mounds. What’s more, I once had to be carried inside a plastic cage and put on the seat of one of these cars and taken to a veterinary clinic where I had my “doings” removed. So these speeding machines are not high up on my treat list, believe me. And we know that our predecessor is buried in a planter by the wall because he was too fond of the tarmac and one of these metal monsters knocked him down.

All of these things make us understand why our woman and man want to keep us in the garden and away from danger but why oh why do we have to wear leads?  

Coco

It had to happen and I had a feeling it would be soon. The arrival of a rival. Yes, one that is cocooned in striped pyjamas. Eyes like pale sea green marbles; no doubt “mewling and puking” in nurse Nancy’s arms. Meet Coco:

I heard my woman aww and coo when she saw its picture on her family’s blog. It is the new owner of my woman’s sister who is called Nancy.

It’s just not fair. My cuteness and cuddle factor should not be toppled and I won’t let it. To rub more salt into my gaping wound, this creature is named after a well known and much admired French fashion designer – whereas I am named (I’ve just recently learned) after some obscure folk singer probably only enjoyed by my man and woman. I’m gutted.

Mirror, mirror on the wall.....