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