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Archive for the ‘Cat Achievement’ Category

Boy was I a thrilled kitty to come in through the Catflap of Destiny and discover fpu had just finished preparing six bonny bylte lobsters: my timing, as ever, was impeccable. Or so I thought…

Lovely, just!

Whoosh! I was up there faster than a punter up a hooer’s draaers!

Don’t get aerated, it’s just wee bits o’ taes, ken:-)

Unfortunately, I disrememberated© munching on some gress all-too-recently *sigh*

So glad there was some left over…not complaining like, but that fpu was just a bit quick mopping up the womit: it was very fresh…

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It takes all sorts of cats to make a world. Take my mate Marmers – oh go on, purrleeeease.

No, I mean metaphorically speaking, take my mate Marmers, he’s a laid back kinda guy, likes his R&R (pretty much to the exclusion of all else), does a bit of eatin’ a bit of sleepin’ and a lot more diggin’ than is stric’ly necessary, but you won’t see him strollin’ along the High Street acting Mr Kool, like some cats I am too modest to name.

This is more his bag. Or basket. Fpu was not thrilled to see His Lardship snuggling into the clean laundry…and after all that folding too…

Other more energetic, puss-about-town types purrefer to stroll along the West Shore, taking in the evening sun and generally socialising, posing, perambulating, that sort of thing…

See? I’ve tried explaining to him, I’ve tried showing him How It’s Done, but to no avole; he’s just that sort of cat, the kind that won’t budge, won’t try something a bit adventurous, a stick-in-the-mud.

I’ve got a thing about grey cats…

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I wull tell you this, the noise! the stour! the Disruption! It was awful.

Fpu swanned off to St Andies and Guardbridge, leaving m’Marmalade Chum and me to face the music. And the end result??? A huge draughty hole in the sitting room wall! Wtf was that about? And what is a sensitive feline to do?

This is what we did. Purrfectly sensibly, we decamped to the spare bedroom and curled up on some old friends. Like you do…

comfee and cosee and trying to ignore Things Going On Below

Here’s lookin’ at you…Marmers, put your tongue away!

Marmers shows his disdain and also his lovely clean toothypegs.

All quiet today so far…

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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.

 

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I thought, there’s no-one around, I’m just here on my own, where would be a nice cosy place to have a wee snooze?

In the kitchen there’s this Thing, big and white, with a round door like  a hobbit hole; ever so inviting, full of the fpu’s claes and just the right size for a kitty to kurl up in.

So I did. Or at least, I did try to, but no sooner had I popped in, that the blasted Paparazza was there in force, camera in hand, making silly propitiatory noises like, “Ooooo who’s a cute kitty then. What a ickle-wickle cuddlekins it is,” and other utterances too nauseating to repeat.

However, the one exhortation which galvanised me into action was, “Don’t move. Stay right there.”

Naturally I immediately exited said Hobbit Hole with alacrity, leading to the following dog’s abuse, “I said…$*%T!!! You goddam fecking hairy basturt you!!!”

Mee-hee-hee-oww:-)

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I am always rather puzzled by some of the things bipeds get up to in the interests of relaxation: me, I just curl up somewhere warm and have a wee purr with my lovely green eyes shut. What more could one want?

So here we are, all cosied up on the sofa in CookieCutterCottage, having a bit of a snugfest…

…however, when the view is extended, you will see Flickery Thing, with a picture of what I believe is a ‘lead singer’ (whatever that is) singing a ‘song’ (HA!) called ‘The Fog On The Tyne’ on something called an Old Grey Whistle Test. And, incomprehensibly for someone in a tiny hot studio behind a lift shaft, wearing what I believe is called a ‘beanie’ hat – though what they called it in nineteen-canteen, guid kens…

…and here I am doing my Feel The Lerv Look and doing it rather well, though I say so as shouldn’t.

I never did learn if the purrson in the beanie passed the test…though there was one interesting line about kippers which got my vote.

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It has came to my attention that some of my fans are becoming rather too interested in the Marmers side of things: purrhaps I has bin a bit too generous with allowing his purrson to appear in my blog.

I am remedying this purrlous state of affairs forthwith! Time to redress the balance in favour of the handsomer one of us.

That’s me, just in case you felt like asking, “Who?” and risking a wallop around the chops in the purrocess…

There was a sunny day recently. No really, don’t laugh.

So I thought, why not have a quick wash and brush-up and give the Sun something to smile about.

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