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
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