We should be used to the bizarre tastes of humans, Estorbo, but this one really takes the cat biscuit.
I was just sitting minding my own business, when Rachel switched on the tv and showed me something very weird.....
I just had to watch, up close and for a long time too, to make sure I wasn't imagining it. My eyes nearly went square.
You're not going to believe this, but here they watch a show every year where they get hundreds - yes, hundreds! - of ugly d.a.w.g.s together, and make them run about. They talk about their legs, and their heads, and their topline, whatever that is, and their stride, and then they line up the ones they like best - usually the really big ugly ones - and pick a winner. Fancy getting a prize for being big and ugly!
You can just imagine the smell.....
And everyone cheers, and whistles, and claps their hands. Some of those d.a.w.g.s have come from America, so I know you have crazy people there too.
Cats wouldn't put up with such a vulgar carry-on.
I'm so glad I wasn't born a d.a.w.g.
The hard lives of four cats (and an interloper) surviving a totalitarian regime.
Saturday, 12 March 2011
Thursday, 10 March 2011
Tears before bedtime
There we were, just settling down comfortably for the night, when Flossie came in and saw us. She didn't want to share her bed with us, apparently, but went next door and whined at Rachel, who came to see what was the matter.
For once, Rachel was sensible. "Just get in with them, Floss!" she said. "Plenty of room for you all!"
But Scooter got out; he didn't like to see Flossie upset.
(Scooter: "and I didn't want to be squashed by her either...")
I stayed put. What was her problem?
Later, Flossie tried to make a point about our own beds.
She fails to grasp that there is no Hers and Ours in this house.
There is only Ours and Ours.
Just as it should be.
Saturday, 5 March 2011
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