Igloo

I've been given a Christmas gift and to say that I am underwhelmed is an understatement. The humans have presented me with a cat igloo. Basically a soft, fluff covered thing that I am expected to sleep in. I took one brief look inside and then came straight out again. A cursory glance and little more was what I gave it. This of course has left them feeling most upset and even hurt to some degree. But  I can't help that now can I? I never asked for a cat igloo and I can't think why they bought it for me. After all, I've got a king sized bed all to myself so why would I need an igloo to sleep in. I bet it cost just shy of a tenner as well. That could have bought ten packets of Dreamies instead. But no, they've blown it all on an igloo!

But here's the thing gentle reader. I probably will use the igloo when I'm good and ready to. And not just to make them happy. Let's not forget who is in charge around here. It's their job to please me not the other way round. So one day, when I feel like it I shall check the igloo out and maybe even have a kip in it. If I like what I see then I shall continue to use it. If I don't like it then they may as well put it in the bin. I'm sure there are plenty of cats out there sleeping in such things and if that's your bag then all well and good but Pixie Poo Poo is currently loving the bed and that's where I'll be sleeping for the foreseeable.

Cat igloo indeed!

PPP x

I'm Dreaming Of A Quiet Christmas

It's coming gentle reader and fellow cats everywhere. It's fast approaching and there's nothing any of us can do about it. I refer to Christmas of course. Already the front room is festooned with gifts of all shapes and sizes and there is much talk about food and drink amongst the humans. Yes, the annual gorge fest will be here before you know it. In fact, this time next week it'll be all over so that's something to look forward to isn't it? But before then I've got to put up with watching these two getting arsewiped on sherry and port wine, filling their intestines with food until bloated like a pair of methane filled hot air balloons and then listening to them expelling that gas into the confines of the caravan until I feel that I need to wash my fur.

And of course come Christmas Eve we'll have to sit through It's A Wonderful Life, again!!! We never get to see any of the films I want to see. Why can't we watch Ben Purr or Meow, Myself and Irene or Star Paws? (see what I did there?) Oh no, we have to watch that schmaltzy old guff so that those two can get all misty eyed and gurn at each other. Well balls to all that. They can watch their bloody film. I know where I'll be - firmly tucked up in bed. In fact, that's where I'll be for the bulk of the entire festive period. Especially on Christmas day when they're all coming over to my caravan for dinner! No doubt that great berk of a hound will be here as well.

But I shouldn't complain too much. I'll have the bed to myself quickly as the humans will be up early to tear open the gifts that they spent so much time carefully wrapping. Honestly it's like watching a pair of five year olds. And why go to all that trouble covering everything in paper and sellotape just to rip it into tiny pieces again a few days later. I never have understood that one. Still, there had better be something nice in there for me or I shall give them the cold shoulder like never before. And I'll have my gift when I'm good and ready for it. Not like that time a few years ago when they tore everything open on Christmas Eve like a pair of ravenous wolves in a chicken coop and then had nothing to open in the morning. Mind you they were full of that funny looking Bailey's stuff so that's their excuse. Pfft!

So anyway, I've got me a plan and that plan is to sleep in the (darkened) bedroom until it's all over and try and get some much needed peace and quiet. And woe betide any of them if I get disturbed. I'm dreaming of a quiet Christmas and I'm bally well going to get one don't you worry.

PPP x

Bladdered!

That scouse hippie came over at the weekend. Randy or Roddy or whatever his name is. Anyway, he arrived with a supply of strong drink for the humans to consume. This only added to the strong drink that Ange and the lummox had already purchased. To put it bluntly they weren't short of the stuff. Naturally they then spent Saturday night pouring it down their necks until they were all thoroughly inebriated. The lummox was virtually insensible by the end of the night and it was frankly atrocious and embarrassing to see. And Ange ought to know better than that too. She should remain vigilant to my needs at all times. How can she feed me when she's off her head on plonk? I blame the hippie. He turns up out of the blue and before you know it my servants are arseholed. Unacceptable or what?

As you would expect they were all subdued and fragile the next day. The pair of them didn't get out of the bed until half ten which, as you know, isn't allowed. And the hippie lay on the couch until then, snoring at both ends. Honestly it was hard to tell which end was making the most noise. And then they cooked and ate sausages like a bunch of gannets and didn't save any for me. I was pretty disgusted at their gluttonous greed let me tell you. Later in the day the hippie attempted to stroke me, obviously in a vain attempt to curry my favour. It didn't work and I did my level best to ignore them all until he had gone home. I took pity on Ange about 7pm and made a big fuss of her because she had made a bit more of an effort to keep me in the manner to which I am accustomed but I gave the lummox the cold shoulder as all he had done all day was to sit on his vast arse and drink coffee. Worse than useless at times that one is.

They both then decided that they needed an early night. And I let them gentle reader. I let them sleep some more. What a caring and magnificent cat I am. They'll probably do it all again at some point over Christmas and then spend the next day feeling sorry for themselves once more. Well I won't feel sorry for them. I shall treat their behaviour with the contempt it deserves until such times they are in a fit state to care for me properly.

PPP x

He's Back

The lummox has returned from his exile. And do you know what, I hate to say it but I have kind of missed him. Not his odour or his breath or his gluttony or his farts or his feet or the way he lumbers around the place like Bigfoot with gout. No, I haven't missed any of that gentle reader but I have missed the fact that he wasn't there to feed me in the middle of the day. Ange has been at work of course and puts food out for me (as she should) but sometimes I want more than that during the day and that's where lummoxy comes in.

You see, despite being a malodorous, great berk he is quite liberal and open handed with the refrigerator. All I have to do is give him a right good meowing and hover around next to the fridge with my tail rampant and he soon comes running to open it and feed me any of the choice comestibles that are in there. Therefore, without him there hasn't been any mid-afternoon ham or sliced chicken and that is what I've missed.

He's back now though so snacks can recommence. Although I will say that in addition he has soon lapsed into his old ways - scratching his arse and shuffling about the place getting under my paws. Last week I slept under the quilt with Ange on the lummox's side of the bed, well, the huge depression that he's made in the mattress at any rate. And it was lovely. I was cosy and warm, she smells nice and it meant she didn't have to disturb me in the morning. So it's a case of weighing things up in the end. Was it a good thing or a bad thing that he's been away. A bit of both I think.

PPP x

Bliss!

Oh it’s sheer bliss gentle reader. Absolute bliss. The lummox is going to be away for a whole week, maybe even longer. They’ve started bringing my boat back up the river to where there are new moorings at Shipley. I shall of course be ruling the place in no time at all. But before then there’s the small matter of them fetching the boat. Last weekend they managed to get it a paltry twenty miles as far as Castleford. That’s still a long way from Shipley so guess what? The lummox has had to stay with the boat to look after it for me. Oh joy, oh bliss.

That means that we won’t have him arsing about the place belching, farting, snoring and making the air in the bathroom unbreatheable. The caravan will sound and smell a lot better in his absence that’s for sure. Also it means that I’ll get Ange all to myself and can get as much fuss off her as I like without having his dirty great mitts pawing at me like a gorilla with a pineapple. It’s going to be great. I’ll have more of the bed at night and can burrow my way under the covers to cosy up to Ange without being deafened by his constant grunts and noisy inhalations.

I suppose I ought to be grateful to him in a way. I mean, he is looking after my boat for me but also for the wonderful opportunity to have a great week without him being here. So cheers lummox. See you whenever!

PPP x

Naughty But Nice

The humans keep calling me naughty and I don't know how much longer I can stand for it. I really don't know who the hell they think they're talking to! To have the bare faced temerity to call me naughty in my own caravan is a bit much. They tell me I'm naughty for all sorts of reasons. I stay in bed too long in their eyes ergo I'm naughty. I won't eat some of the utter shash they try to pass off as food so I'm naughty. I claw their hands when they tickle my tummy therefore I'm naughty. And so on and so forth. I can't put a paw out of place these days without being called naughty.

On Monday the lummox had another job interview and spent Sunday afternoon preparing for it. He wrote some notes down and kept revising them. Then before you know it I'm being called naughty again. And why? I'll tell you why. Because I put wet paw prints on his poxy notes which blurred some of his writing. How in God's name can I be blamed for that? The oaf left his notes on the table for one thing and they both know how much I like going on there. And it had rained heavily earlier that day and I can't be held responsible for that now can I? If my gorgeous pads get wet that's just the luck of the draw.

Besides which I don't know what he's got to complain about. His writing looks like a spider fell into a glass of rum and then staggered across the page leaving a trail of its own feces behind. My lovely paw prints actually improved the look of it. So take that lummox and shut your fat face. And that Ange, honestly you'd think she'd done something amazing by putting out a bit of cat food for me. It looked and smelled dreadful so I didn't eat it and she called me naughty. Anyone in their right mind could see that all it needed was some ham or chicken and I would have been purring like a road drill. But instead she puts some pile of garbage in my bowl and then calls me names because I refuse to soil my lips with it. What on earth is the matter with these people?

Like I say, it's my caravan and I'll behave how I want. At the moment I'm really enjoying sitting on the table and if he's so stupid as to leave things on it that he may want later then more fool him. And if she thinks I'm going to eat any old muck just to please her then she can think again. I'm not naughty at all. I'm just doing what a cat's gotta do. Actually, between you and me gentle reader, I rather enjoyed laying down tracks on his notes. Naughty, but nice. Tee hee!

PPP x

Interview Day

Oh my word! You really ought to see the lummox today. What a great, fat, balding, bearded ponce of a man he is. And what a lather he has got himself into. He's going for a job interview this afternoon and if you saw the style if the man you would rock with laughter. As I have done. He's a jabbering nervous wreck for one thing. Shuffling and shambling about the place and desperately trying to learn his lines whilst trembling like a frightened kitten with fear. One minute he's in the shower and the next he's washing his lank greasy hair in the kitchen, then brushing his teeth repeatedly. In and out of the bathroom like a man with the squitters. He doesn't know what to do with himself. And then he polishes his shoes and puts his suit on. Suit! It certainly doesn't suit him. And especially when he then went and put his hair in a ponytail. He looked like an extra from Pulp Fiction. As for that tie...

And he's gone and trimmed his beard the other day. I know I can't stand to even look at the man most of the time but I had got used to seeing his straggly, scruffy facial fungus and now he's cut it dead short so that we can see the shape of his chin which to be perfectly honest is nothing to be proud of and personally I can't wait until it all grows back. I mean, seeing him dressed like that and trying to look all smart doesn't seem natural somehow and I think I much preferred him the way he was ('Hey Aqualung!' Know what I mean?).

But at the end of the day I suppose I can be gracious towards the poor sap. He's doing it all for the right reasons. And that is to earn money to spend on me. He will go out to work and earn my keep, the way it should be. Humans work, cats sleep. You can't fault the system. With the money he earns I shall be bought salmon, chicken, beef, ham etc etc. And as many Dreamies as I can eat. So fair play to him for this one. Given me a right good laugh though.

PPP x

Skullduggery

They're up to no good, the humans. I've heard them talking. Whispering in the shadows and trying to subvert my command. Hushed tones whenever I'm around. But I've overheard them and I know what their little game is. There's talk of us all moving back to the boat. My boat!

Blast it all, shouldn't I have a say in this? They think they're being so clever planning this and that without even questioning whether or not it would be good for me. After all, I've got myself into a nice little routine here. You know, sleeping, eating, keeping my fur in great condition. I'm not sure that I want to go back to the boat even if it is mine! I live a warm and comfortable life and therefore they had better make my boat warm and comfortable for me if that is to be the case. I'd better be fed the finest of foods available to a cat, the fire will need to be kept in, my cat flaps will need to be cleaned and polished and the bed had better be made ready for me to use whenever I damn well please.

Of course, living back on my boat will mean living in the countryside again and I shall no doubt return to my old hobby of rodent capture and despatch. I've only had the one since we've been here, just to keep my paw in. This will mean of course that Ange will attempt to tell me off whenever I do it. Well, she'd better not that's all I can say. She needs to watch her tongue that one. And as for old porky loins he had better lay off my catches and leave me to do what a cat's gotta do instead of trying to get his big, hairy mitts on my mice and take them off me. That really gets my back up when he does that.

And I suppose I'll be bundled into that plastic pet carrier for the journey there which I will of course have to fire a turd out into to teach them all a bloody good lesson.

But moving back isn't the worst of it though gentle reader. To top everything, Becky and Erin and Jason are moving on as well for the month of February which is all well and good and normally I would allow it but they're bringing that bounding great berk of a Labrador with them. He'll be leaping about like a migrating wildebeest and winding me up for all he's worth and if they think I'm going to stand for it then they can think again. If he touches my food... Nay! If he so much as even looks at my food I'll have him in that canal before his feet can touch the ground. Let's hope he can swim eh!

So that's what they're planning gentle reader. I Pixie Poo Poo may soon be back on the water and once more in control of my boat. I have missed it in many ways I suppose. And after all, it is mine when all's said and done. It's just that I never seem to get consulted on these matters and that's not on. I'll keep you all updated on it as things progress.

PPP x

The White Stuff

It's snowing today and you should see the absolute tizzy it has got the humans into. Yes, gentle reader, panic has set in. They can't get out in the car to fetch basic necessities (which to them is probably copious amounts of alcohol) and getting to work is impossible. Huh! I find it all rather sad. If they had any sense they would take a leaf out of my book and get ten hours of sleep whilst it all thaws which I have no doubt it will. Mind you, they had better stay off the bed. There are two perfectly good couches they can sleep on. But no, Ange is working from home, the dog is over here acting like a dick with all his barking and the lummox is pfaffing about on eBay when he should be out there with a snow shovel if he was any kind of a man.

I'm not in the least bit worried by a mere bit of snow. I have my luxuriant coat and the duvet to keep me warm and there is a good and plentiful supply of food in my cupboard. Erin is the only one who seems to be taking advantage of it all by playing in it as she hasn't gone to school. Seems a bit strange to a cat though that does, going out and getting yourself all covered in snow and ending up cold and damp. Kids will be kids I suppose so I'll let that one go for now. But I may have to give her a good meowing at some point though.

Anyway, time is getting on and I must be off to bed. The mattress calls. I shall be spending the afternoon fast asleep and dreaming of long hot sunny days when I can warm my gorgeous fur by lying on the shed roof and watching the world go by. Heck, I may even stay in bed until tea time when I shall demand a packet of Gourmet Mon Petit and some Dreamies. And then, if it's still snowing, I shall go back to bed and sleep some more. That's how you deal with snow people. Not grit or tyre chains or getting into a flap and panic buying baked beans. But sleep!

PPP x

Outrageous Behaviour

Sorry folks but I'm afraid I have to report some appalling and frankly disturbing behaviour by the humans. They have occupied the bed during the hours of daylight! I know, I know, you're thinking to yourselves - 'what the bloody hell do they think they're playing at?'. And that's precisely what I thought as well. There I was contentedly sleeping the morning away when all of a sudden the lummox sidles in next to me and wakes me up. Then Ange follows him about a minute later! Before you know it I'm having to lie there listening them snoring away like a pair of chainsaws at that hour. When I should have the bed all to myself!

Apparently they were both suffering from cold and flu symptoms which is neither here nor there nor my fault. If I've said it once I've said it a thousand times. The bed belongs to me! They can borrow it at night time. From when the alarm sounds to when they crawl back into it at night, it belongs to me. Of course, I don't use it for the entirety of the day but I like to have my options open and when I do want to use it I don't want my sleep disturbed by two coughing, snoring humans who to be honest really ought to know better by now.

However, Pixie Poo Poo is not with magnanimity and I let them sleep due to their ailments. How's that for being a caring cat? I was naturally disgruntled. In fact I can't remember the last time my gruntle was so dissed. But because of all the coughing, sneezing and sniffling that's been going on I took pity on the poor things and let them sleep. I even managed to get my head down again for a couple of hours which was nice. Of course, whilst being a kind and considerate type of moggy doesn't mean I would tolerate this behaviour in normal circumstances. If they hadn't been ill then they would not have been allowed within ten feet of the bed let me tell you.

So in future people, to avoid any unpleasantness I suggest Lemsip and Vaporub. Far healthier than constantly disturbing me I think you would find.

PPP x

Claws For Thought

It's imperative for all cats to keep their claws in tip top condition. Our claws are our tools of the trade. We simply cannot do without them. Claws are so useful for rodent capture, flea removal, having a good scratch, clawing humans who get overly familiar and slashing at the noses of dogs who get too close. And any other general mauling requirements that we have. So you see how absolutely vital it is that our claws remain strong and sharp at all times. Why, only the other day I was forced to set about the lummox who got on my nerves with his constant tummy tickling. There  comes a point when enough is enough and I was left with no choice other than to rake his hand for all I was worth. I should point out at this stage that it was my tummy being tickled, not his. I mean, really, can you imagine that? Sitting there on his lumpen great arse, tickling his own beach ball of a tummy. It doesn't bear thinking about. Anyway, he was tickling mine, it all got too much and I lacerated his hand for him.

So you see just how vital it is for a cat like me to maintain claw perfection.

And we do so by sharpening them on something.

So why is it then that I find myself being constantly berated for sharpening my claws on the side of the couch? Where else am I supposed to do it for crying out loud? It's the ideal spot, It's upright, padded and covered in a heavy cloth material. It's positively custom made for the job. But oh no, as soon as I start sharpening my pristine claws one of them will tell me off. I ignore it of course as you would expect which is fine but it shouldn't be happening at all. It's only a couch at the end of the day. An old couch, not some priceless Victorian armchair. Although that wouldn't really make any difference to me. I'd still use it. The point is that I need to sharpen and that couch provides the perfect means of doing it.

Many humans will buy their cat overlords a thing called a scratching post. Basically an upright log with some string tightly wrapped up and down the length of it, usually accompanied with some paltry toy attached to yet more string. The cat is then expected to use this for sharpening their claws. And that's all well and good, they work I suppose. But here's the problem, they cost good money. A small fortune is often spent on even a basic model and some of the more elaborate ones with hidey holes and platforms etc (the sort that I would and should have myself if I actually wanted one) can come to an enormous amount of money. That money could be far better used buying necessities such as tins of salmon, packets of ham, chicken, Dreamies, corned beef, battered fish and all the other delicious things that I get my pair to buy for me.

So here's a Pixie top tip to all my feline fans. If your human buys you a scratching post, then just don't use it. They will have to take it back to the store or Ebay it and then you can get that money spent on treats. Use a couch instead or if you haven't got a suitable couch then any other piece of furniture that takes your fancy. You know it makes sense.

PPP x

I'm Back!!!

It must come as a huge relief to all my world wide web followers and multitude of fans out there to know that Pixie Poo Poo is back in the blogging game. Yes folks, I'm back and raring to go. It's been quite some time since I stopped the (now legendary) Pixie's Diary blog and left you all salivating for more. Can't think now why it stopped. Maybe it had ran it's course. Maybe it was time to quit whilst I was ahead. Or maybe I just couldn't be arsed anymore. Either way PD came to an end. But now, my furry friends, Pixie has returned with an all new blog - The Pixie Report. And here it is.

A lot has happened since I've been gone. I still live with Ange, who I do genuinely care for, and the lummox, who continues to grate on my nerves with his farting, snoring and general boorishness befitting someone of his flabby frame and poor personal hygiene standards. And I'm still in charge of things around here, naturally. I'm still fed whatever I damn well want and I still continue to confound the humans with my discernment when it comes to comestibles. But that's their problem isn't it? As I mentioned many times before in my previous blog, I'll only eat the finest of foods and will turn my nose up at the dreadful offal that they have often tried to force on me.

I'm still as gorgeous as ever. Actually no. No I'm not. If truth be told I'm actually more so. Like a fine wine I seem to improve with age. My coat is luxuriant, my tail is rampant and I'm as svelte and sleek as ever. Unlike the lummox who is aging about as well as an open sachet of cat food that's been left out in direct sunlight for three days. He turned 50 recently and by the look of his straggly, grey beard, tired, baggy eyes and generally unkempt appearance you'd think he was considerably older. As for myself, I am now 9 years old but you'd never think so to look at me. Oh yes, I'm in fine fettle.

But there has been one major change in my life gentle reader and it was one that I was neither aware of nor prepared for. Last year we left my boat that we were living on to move to a caravan in Baildon. You're shocked aren't you? And rightly so. I was too! We'd spent three weeks in dry dock at some place called Goole where the humans painted the boat and had some work done on the place. It was good and right of them to paint my boat for me I suppose but in truth I hated the place. Not a great environment for a cat at all. Then they moved the boat to some place called Rawcliffe Bridge and moored it up to a wooden jetty, which I steadfastly refused to set paw on, and without warning I was bundled into my basket and that was it. That was the last time I saw my boat!

But I showed 'em! We hadn't gone more than a few hundred yards when I shat in the basket. Hah! That meant they had to travel 50 miles with that in their nostrils. You would have thought they might have learned by now. It's not the first time I've had to do that to them to teach them a lesson.

Anyway, we arrived at the caravan and I was released from the confines of the basket which the lummox had the pleasant duty to clean (hee hee!). It was all very new to me and I ran under the bed to start with to gather my thoughts and take stock of the situation. Not, as the humans thought, because I was scared and confused. Pfft! It would take more than that to scare and confuse moi. But in time I came out and it didn't take long before I became monarch of all I surveyed once more. The caravan is sited in some place call Crook Farm and there is a rather splendid view from the front window in which I like to sit and stare out of. It's comfortable, warm and of course mine and over the course of the last twelve months I've come to regard it favourably. It's quite nice really.

The humans still go to the boat regularly at weekends to do maintenance and get drunk. Which means I'm left here with Becky and Erin looking after me. Erin is nice but that Becky makes fun of my meow. I have a fine, clear meow thank you very much. She's quite good at the old petting though so I'll let it pass. Erin is a real cat person though and as humans go she's probably the best of the bunch.

I also have to report that the dog passed away. She wasn't a bad old stick really I suppose as dogs go and yes I did have rather a soft spot for her at times. Yes, gentle reader Pixie Poo Poo is not without compassion. The trouble is that there's a new dog in her place who also lives at the caravan park with Becky and Erin. He's called Nigel or Norman or something like that. I'm not really interested in his name as he's a monstrous great pain in the tushy. The humans are constantly trying to stop him from emptying the bin or prevent him from chewing things that don't belong to him. He gets over excited and jumps around and sometimes chases me which I'm pleased to say the lummox intervenes with (he does have his uses). Technically he's a puppy and it's all done in playfulness on his behalf but it still gets on my wick. But worst of all he eats my food like a big great greedy guts. Listen up dog, IT'S MINE!!! Get off it! Really, he needs to seriously watch his step. Snowy and Sooty are still around of course and show their faces near my van occasionally but are seen off at the first opportunity. I'm still a territorial kind of cat.

Well that's what's been happening to me. The humans have got me a king size bed with a new mattress which I generously share with them at night. Of course during the hours of daylight they know better than to even attempt to get in it as I'm getting my beauty sleep at that time. People come and go, we get visitors who naturally make a fuss of me and I'm pretty much content with things. It's not a bad life being a cat is it?

So come back soon and check out The Pixie Report. I'm back!!!

PPP x