Twenty-twelve!

Happy New Year! Whatever day it is. According to Digicam, it is the third, but my calendars (two cat, one Shetland, one Australian, one lugger) say it is the second, so take your pick.

Time’s only a concept, after all…

Nothing much is happening here. I’ve been behaving impeccably, as always; Marmers has been ‘stremely annoyin’, as usual, and there was some quite bizarre behaviour among the humans on the cusp of the New Year. The latter has been documented elsewhere, and I don’t feel it’s my purrlace to publish embarrassing photos when fpu has already done it.

Here I demonstrate my uncanny ability to sense the purrescence of photographic equipment…

I did have fun!

But, yesterday, on the first of January Twenty-twelve, Marmers really got up my dainty pink nose.

I am still incandescent with rrrrrrrrrrage: the lovely hanging bed that fu got me last year in a stack-em-high-sell-em-cheap supermarket that has been Only Mine ever since, MY furry radiator bed…he USURPED it, INVADED it, bleedin’ NICKED it.

And then had the cheek to pose POSE for a photograph.

The furry BASTARD!

His coup was brief. Fpu removed him to a chair, some hours later, and re-instated me to my Rightful Purrlace.

But, Dear Reader, I suffered.