Thoughtful design

A garden bench is so useful. This one is mine. I like it because it has a handy gap at the back that allows me to hang my tail down rather comfortably while I think.

I say Rachel should give me a cushion.

Rachel says I'm sufficiently well-padded.

She also says I should have moved along a bit to hide the patches of missing render on the kitchen wall.

I say she should stop fussing and leave me alone to think.

She can call me when it's supper time.

Exercise class

Just after I finished my last post, I had a bit of a think. What if Rachel was right? What if I was portly, as she calls my sturdy build? Should I start taking regular exercise?

And I realised that I should, if only to tone up my lovely curves a little. So I'm going to run my own Bums and Tums class, several times a week. Each class will include exercise, a nutrition seminar (practical), rest and relaxation.

I've had two sessions so far.

For the first one, I went outside, and hopped up onto the wall.

I had a good look over into Next Door's garden. They are the people who Hamish and Scooter spy on through the bedroom window.

And then I hopped down again. I have to ease myself into this; no point in straining myself.

I invited Scooter to join in. He's curvaceous and gets called portly too.

Scooter said he wasn't a body fascist like some. He'd stick with his lovely curves, he thought.

So I came indoors for the nutrition part of the class. I checked the dinner dish and went back upstairs for the rest and relaxation session.

The following day, I tried the other wall. First onto the wheelie bin. A promising start, I thought.

And then onto the wall.

I had a good look up and down the other Next Door's drive. That's the house where Millie's Enemies live. She goes into their house to tell them that she is in charge of their drive.

I got a bit stuck under the weathervane thing. Rachel commented that Bums and Tums was just what I needed to focus on, and maybe reduce the nutrition class element. What nonsense.

I cooled down, hopped off the bin, and went inside.

I checked out the dinner dish as part of the nutrition seminar,and went back upstairs to relax.

I didn't do anything today. This exercise lark is a bit boring and repetitive, is all I'm saying.

Maybe meditation is more my thing. I'm good at sitting still, just breathing.....

Isn't that ok?

Rachel thinks I don't get enough exercise. She says I just sleep, eat, sleep, with naps in between.

Not true! I tell her. I also spend time thinking.

And washing. Then thinking some more.

Sometimes she carries me downstairs and dumps me in the garden.

I might stay there for a few minutes, and then come in through the cat flap.

I always check the dinner dish before I go upstairs to resume my nap.

What? What?

Going upstairs is exercise, isn't it?

Pudding-Bomb?

How dare you call me that!

I'm just big-boned.

Hateful

I have to live here now. Me, a sophisticated Londoner, coming to live in the back of beyond, Woop-Woop-by-the-Sea.

The humans are ok, I suppose but the cats! - well, I hate them. They hate me too.

I growl at them. I look fierce.

They growl at me. The females do, anyway; the boys just run away, silly little scaredy-cats.

Rachel says it will all be fine.

Huh!