Fire!!!

If there's one thing the lummox can do properly (and it is only the one thing) it's lighting a fire and keeping my boat warm. And due to the recent cool weather we've already had a couple of fires of an evening. And I love it gentle reader. I absolutely love laying in front of the stove and feeling the heat radiate over my gorgeous, silken fur. But then all of us cats love that kind of thing, let's face it. Who wouldn't? And I'm looking forward to many more over the coming months of Autumn and Winter. Especially seeing that the portly one will be home at ten o'clock every day and will have to light one then so that I can get out of bed and still be cosy and toasty. It'll be grand. I just hope he manages to keep a goodly supply of wood and coal in. I haven't seen him wield axe nor chainsaw in a long time. But then he's probably past it now and will have to buy it in. If that's the case I suggest you get some overtime in then my flabby friend as I insist on being kept warm and you will rue the day that we run out of combustible fuel let me tell you.

PPP x

A Slim Chance

The lummox is going on a diet and cutting down on the booze. Hold on a minute while I have a bloody good laugh...

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, HAH!

...that's better.

I mean, honestly, can you see old dribbling porky loins losing weight and getting healthy? No, neither can I. Apparently he feels goaded into action due to a recent visit to the doctor. He has high blood pressure and is generally in a poor physical condition. He's probably plagued with cholesterol as well which I'm sure will be revealed by the blood test he's due to have. Well, you can't say I haven't warned you all about this. What with the man being such a fat and sedentary article it was bound to happen wasn't it?

So now he's out buying salad and vegetables and vowing to rid himself of fried food, pasties, dairy products and ale. Huh! I'll believe that when I see it. I just can't imagine him going for more than a few days without swilling Irish stout down his gluttonous throat like it's going out of fashion. And it's only a brief matter of time before he's gorging himself on food that is taken away from it's place of preparation and eaten at home. Lose wait!?! A slim chance indeed!

PPP x

A Question Of Age - Part 2

Well, what a response I've had to this subject - when is a cat a senior?. And many thanks to all who emailed me with their thoughts on the matter. Here's a brief selection from the old electronic mail bag:

"I'm with you on this one Pixie. Keep up the good work"

Pickles, Norwich

"There's no such thing as senior cats. We're all in purr-fect condition"

Cupcake, Croydon

"You're right as usual Pix. Power to your paw!"

Tabby, Weston-Super-Mare

"As a cat of some 18 years I would class myself as senior but only in a way that means I'm a very wise cat. I can still put the mice in their place and claw the furniture to shreds when the mood takes me."

Smokey, Kettering

"Up yours humans!"

Sooky, Chepstow

"Who cares what humans think? We run this world. They're just glorified servants."

Fluffykins, Merthyr Tydfil

"I'd like to think that I'll reach a ripe old age and still put away the odd tin of tuna."

Rolo, Portsmouth

"You're only as old as the cat that you feel." 

Poshpaws, Bodmin

"Human beings can shove it up their arses as far as I'm concerned!!! Love the blog by the way."

Snuggles, Mansfield

Wow, seems that I've really stirred up a real hornets nest with this one. Take my advice, don't give the humans the satisfaction of thinking you're senior. We know what we are. We are cats and proud of it. Once again many, many thanks to all who emailed me. Your support and enthusiasm for The Pixie Report is gratefully received. Thank you.

PPP x

A Question Of Age

I have been affronted gentle reader. Yet again the humans have sought to upset me and injure my pride. How? I hear you ask. Simple! They've started buying me "senior" cat food. Senior!!! Me!!! I couldn't believe it, I really couldn't.

For a short while now I have been playing the old 'turn my nose up' game at the food I've been laughingly presented with. Some of it absolute tosh I have to say. Co-op shite and Aldi muck! Nuts to that, I want, demand and deserve the finer things in life. So the lummox was duly dispatched to Asda to see what else he could rustle up. Surely, I thought, surely even he can get it right from such a wide and varied selection. Well, he turned up with Gourmet Mon Petit (which I do actually like) and some Go-Cat biscuits (which are also quite choice) but then he blew it by pulling a packet of senior cat food out of his tatty little shopping bag. I stared at him for a few moments believing it to be some kind of practical joke and thinking that he would then produce a tin of salmon or some honey roast ham but no. The fat lout then opened the bloody senior stuff and put it in my bowl. Now, in all honesty I have to say that it actually smelled really nice and I was tempted enough to try it. And it was good, I did quite enjoy it despite the obvious insult towards me of suggesting that I am a senior cat.

Senior! I ask you! Bloody senior. I'm not a senior. I'm in the prime of my life. I have the figure and athleticism of a cat half my age. Why, you should see me leaping onto the roof of my boat and sprinting along my mooring like a cheetah. I mean, for crying out loud I'm only 10 (well, next month) and that's hardly any age for a cat these days. However, according to the packet of this food that he bought senior counts as 7+. Ee gad, that's barely out of kittenhood! 7+! Bloody hell! I was just getting my wind up at 7. And now that makes us all seniors!?! What an affront to all cats everywhere who are at that age. Humans really don't know bugger all do they? What berk decided that age 7 was when cats become senior? What twat sat and worked out that it's all downhill from there for us pussies? It's a disgrace, gentle reader, nothing short of a disgrace and I think it's time something was done to rectify this farcical fallacy.

However, it does beg the question - at what age are cats senior? I'd like to hear your furry thoughts on the matter and you can do so by emailing me at treblepcat@gmail.com or by using the comments form below. Maybe then we can stick it to the humans and get some well earned respect around here.

PPP x

Bank Holiday Blues

Boo! Yah, boo and sucks to it! My bank holiday weekend has been thoroughly ruined by humans and the dog. Wrecked! Destroyed! All my plans out of the window! Still, it could've been worse. I'll explain...

Ever since Friday we've had Becky, Erin and the dog here. Literally for the whole weekend. And of course you know what that means don't you? Debauchery and barking in equal measure. I've had to hide myself away from that hairy, beige moron as he gets on my tits so much and the humans have been making such a mess and a cacophony working on my boat that it's been near impossible for me to get anything resembling peace and quiet. But, like I say it could have been a lot worse. The buggers where planning to go cruising. Cruising!!! Without my express permission! But I had the last laugh oh gentle reader. I had the last laugh indeed. There they were buying in supplies and taking the wheelhouse down and getting diesel and making all sorts of preparations for a jolly but then the engine overheated and all of a sudden they were going nowhere fast. Hah!

I thought for a while that that was it and that they would all sod off out for the day but no. They then set about doing all manner of work on my boat and turned the placed into a bloody building site. And then (get this), and then they went and painted the side of my boat purple. F*****g purple!!! I'm sorry but I don't remember inviting anybody to paint my boat purple. I was affronted. And of course whilst all this was going on the bloody dog kept up a constant flow of barking just to prove to all and sundry what a berk he is. It's been a nightmare gentle reader, an absolute nightmare. Erin did her best to placate me with soothing words but it was no good. Thank you for trying though. You are the one shining light in a sea of infuriating humans Erin.

Like I say, this went on for the whole weekend and to add insult to injury they had a barbecue on Saturday and a big meaty fry-up on Sunday which the dog managed to get in on but did I get anything? No! Sod all! It's over now though and that panting great brute has gone home. I mean the dog of course, not the lummox (sorry for any confusion there). It'll not be forgotten in a hurry let me assure you and I now plan to launch a campaign of sulking, fussy eating and night time meowing for the next few days to get back at them for putting me through all that. So there!

PPP x

PS - I thought the lummox could break wind but that Becky is something else!

My Mooring

We've been at the new mooring for six months now and I have to say that despite some initial reservations I had it's actually really nice. I've had no more trouble with other interloping cats and their amorous intentions and it's a very pleasant place to be now. I basically have the run of the place as you would expect and there seems to be a limitless supply of mice here. I get to jump about on everybody else's boats as well as mine and I've found one or two smashing little sun traps that the humans don't know about where I can while away a few hours to my heart's content. Sure, there's a little bit of traffic coming and going into the yard but I steer well clear of that. And of course we still get visits from the flatulent scouse hippie and the dog which gets tedious but otherwise I'm having a pretty good time of it. There are some nice people here who make a fuss of me and who seem to know what a cat likes behind the ears and the swans are placid enough. Those sods at Dowley Gap were downright aggressive! Mind you, we did have fornicating frogs all over the place a few months ago which was very off-putting. Thankfully that's all finished with. So yes, it's all good. I can say with paw on heart that I like my mooring.

My New Favourite Thing

The humans went out for the day on Friday to see the lummox's mater. Which was ace because it meant I had the boat to myself and didn't have to put up with the usual Friday night orgy of alcohol from them. And they came back with the car loaded up with all sorts of things that the lummox's mater had given them. She's quite a nice woman actually. I've met her a few times and she seems very cat-friendly. Can't understand what went wrong with him though. Anyway, one of the things they brought back was a genuine sheepskin rug. Nice, thick, full-some thing it is which for some reason Ange placed on the pouffe. I was then duly encouraged to get on and try it out. At first I meowed loudly at it and turned my back as I thought it was another crafty ploy of theirs but eventually I decided to give it a try as it looked so comfy.

And guess what? It is! It's the most wonderful thing. Soft and fluffy and great to lie on. So much so that I spend about 90% of my time on it. I sleep on it all night until Ange makes my breakfast. I then have my morning nap on it before the lummox comes home. After lunch I take my afternoon kip followed by a quick siesta before tea and then it's back onto the old sheepskin for the night again. I can't get enough of it gentle reader. It's bliss. The humans, I believe, originally planned to put their feet on it. Hah! That's gone out the window let me tell you. It's mine all mine now. Well, until I get fed up with it and move on to something else as we cats tend to do. But until then the lummox better keep his roquefort smelling plates off it.

PPP x

Over Run

Help!!! We're inundated gentle reader. There are children everywhere. Running amok on my boat. Squealing and bouncing around like mad things. I've had to put my paws over my ears to block it out. It's Ange's friend you see and her grandchildren. Kids will be kids of course, I realise that. After all, I was a kitten myself once. But it's the lummox's fault really you see. He's getting them all over-excited with his cajoling and practical jokes. I mean, how many more times is the old plastic turd going to make an appearance or the squirty ring or the fart whistle? He's like a bloody big kid himself. And of course you can imagine the effect all that has had on impressionable young children. Squealing they were. Absolutely squealing!!! And it's alright for that great ox isn't it? He just went to bed when they had gone. I was the one who had had my sleep disturbed. And to top it all off I then discover that Ange's friend (Sadie or Lulu or something, I wasn't really paying attention) doesn't actually like cats. Huh!!! You've come to the wrong place then lady! For I am a perfect example of that species. The children of course were delighted to see me and naturally enjoyed the feel of my silken fur between their fingers. Shame on you though granny!

PPP x

Lummox Day

It's the lummox's birthday today. He's 51 years old. 51 he is and you wouldn't believe it. He looks a damn sight older if you ask me. All grey and lined and dishevelled. Still, it's his special day so I won't say anything bad about him. Well, other than the fact that he's a fat, boorish oaf who makes my life a misery with his flatulence and gluttony and that I can barely tolerate more than a few minutes in his presence at a time and that he's constantly blocking up the bathroom sink with his hair and making it reek and that he wouldn't know how to properly care for a cat if his life depended on it and that he ought to think himself extremely lucky that he has Ange and I. Talk about hitting the jackpot!!! Anyway, like I said, it's his day so I won't say anything bad about him.

I've got him the same present that I got him last year and the year before that and the year before that. A big, fat nothing. Well, I thought, why not? He's worth it. Ange has bought him a book all about interpreting dreams. Huh! One can imagine what kind of dreams he has. He no doubt dreams of over-indulging himself and being an absolute get! If he had any sense at all he would dream about me and how he could better improve his standing with me. Whatever, maybe there's something in that book about cats that might spur him on to such things.

I believe that the two of them are going out this evening to eat Asian cuisine again and therefore the air in the boat will be unbreathable by morning. I suppose I'll let it go just this once as it is his birthday. I just hope they remember to open the pigeon boxes though to allow the effluvium to clear. I don't want to have to spend the whole of July 21st cleaning my fur now do I?

PPP x

Ibstock - A Poem

Ange has gone away for the night

And I'm left here with that heap of shite

She's gone to somewhere called Ibstock

And I'm left here with that pillock

She's had to go because of work

So I'm left here with that great jerk

To feed me if he doesn't forget

But probably will because he's so wet

Yes to Ibstock's where she's gone

And so I find myself put upon

To sit here with a heavy heart

To sit and listen to him fart

Whilst playing his progressive rock

And she's away in damned Ibstock

I really miss her, yes I do

I think he has just followed through

I hope that she comes back real soon

So I'm not alone with this buffoon

I want her back, I want her here

And not this bloated sack of beer

And so I wait and watch the clock

Until Ange comes back, from Ibstock

Piss Wet Through

Hah! So much for their holiday and so much for cruising. It’s pissing it down with rain and the canal water is low. So we can’t go off on a jolly. Serves them right for even thinking about it.

And the rain really is coming down gentle reader. I went out in it today as I believe that it is actually good for my fur. Of course I came in and dried myself off on the duvet afterwards as you’d expect. The main down side to the rain is that it tends to make the gunwales a bit slippery and so I have to take extra care when being out there. The bad news is that the dog came down again today, got soaked and then lay on the couch stinking the place up. And naturally he started barking at every slight little thing that went past. Other boats, people on the mooring, people on the towpath etc etc. Huh! He was piss wet through in more ways than one. Acting like a great big jessy just because he hears something. Dogs for you though you see. Their whole species is piss wet through if you ask me. They get excited at bugger all.

Anyway, the rain is going to be on for a few days so I hear and the humans are planning what they can do instead of cruising. There’s talks of days out here and there which will be great as they won’t be getting under my paws and I can do whatever I damn well please with my time.

Let it rain!

PPP x

The Meowing Of A Lifetime

I was magnificent in the night gentle reader. Truly magnificent. And I really gave those humans what for. Barely a wink of sleep did they get thanks to the mighty meowing I gave them and I have to say that it was thoroughly deserved. Yes, they earned every single one of the meows I gave them and I hope that they have learned a valuable lesson as a result. Here's what happened...

Becky came to stay on my boat last night. No probs with that, it's happened before. But of course, she brought Twinkletoes McGobshite the labrador with her didn't she. And as per usual he made a complete tit of himself with his barking and leaping about. Honestly, he's got about as much self control as an eighty five year old's bladder after three cups of weak tea. And so I had to contend with him acting like an absolute nerk for the whole evening. Well, after I while (a short while) I grew tired of his immaturity and went out for the evening to have a saunter about, a roll on the roof and see if there were any mice to be had, you know, cat stuff. And that was all well and good. The problems started when I went back in.

You see, I was ready for bed by this time and at the moment I'm choosing to sleep on the couch. Why? I don't know! Could it be the lummox's feet or his breath or his farts or his snoring that's keeping me off the bed or something else entirely? Maybe I just like a change of scenery from time to time when I wake up. Whatever! The point is this, when I came back in I wanted to hit the couch and get eight hours sleep in before my morning nap. Imagine then my shock and annoyance to find Becky and that blonde-haired, yapping ponce lying snoring on the couch and clearly in deep sleep. I glared at them for a few moments whilst I thought what to do. And then it came to me. It was the lummox and Ange's fault that that hulking great brute was here (the labrador I mean, not Becky) and that he was in my place. Yes, by God, their fault and they would pay for it.

So I went straight back out again and up onto the roof. I then strode purposefully to the far end of my boat to where the bedroom is. The pigeon box was wide open, I stuck my shapely head through it and meowed for all I was worth. Ange heard me first (the lummox being insensible from wine) and got out of bed to see what was the matter. I darted away from the pigeon box but continued meowing. By now the lummox was coming around with a succession of grunts and other bodily expulsions I won't go into and he too got out of bed to see what was going on. Having disturbed them both I skipped off back down the roof and away.

This was ace. I waited by the mast for ten of fifteen minutes or so for them to drift off back to sleep and then repeated what I had just done with exactly the same results. Oh, it was choice. This continued for the remainder of the night, each time getting the humans more and more distressed thinking that something must be wrong with me. Well there was! I wanted the bleeding couch!!! Several times the lummox tried to reach up and lift me in through the pigeon box like an orangutan reaching for a bunch of bananas but everytime he got close I skipped off again. Hee hee! And I kept up this performance until about seven o'clock in the morning when they finally decided to get up.

I was tired too by now but not as much as that pair because I'd had a bloody good kip in the afternoon. Ha! But then, just as I was wondering what to do next Becky came out, gently picked me up and carried me into my boat, past the brute and through to the bedroom. With no humans in it to spoil my peace I lay down, curled up and went to sleep whilst the rest of them, all thoroughly disheveled, sat and drank coffee to try and perk themselves up. But why (I hear you say), why didn't you just put up with the bedroom anyway, just for a few hours rather than miss a night's sleep just because of a dog? Well, it's the principle of the matter for one thing. It's my boat and I should be able to sleep wherever I want to. And for another thing, there's a pecking order around here and I think that giving them a night like that I have enforced my position at the top of the pile. So there!

PPP x

Holiday Time

Oh dear! It’s that time again. The humans are taking two weeks off work for a holiday and that can only mean one thing. My peace and quiet is going to be shattered for a fortnight. They’ll probably want to go off cruising with my boat and so I’ll have to endure that again. I mean it could be fun, mousing in new places and all that, but damn it I have a routine and now it’s going to be disturbed. The holiday starts today and no doubt it will be heralded by a drinking session during which the lummox will probably disgrace himself again. As usual.

I don’t know why they feel they have to take time off work but it seems to be a thing that all humans do. Us cats don’t take time off from our busy lives so why should they. I can just picture the scene over the next couple of weeks. They’ll be lying in bed all morning, lolling about on the couch all day. Coming in and out and making noise and generally ballsing up my life. The boat will be awash with alcoholic beverages of all kinds and they will more than likely fill themselves with South Asian cuisine to the point where much blowing off takes place again.

Why can’t they bugger off to the seaside or even better to Torremalinos or somewhere and give me some peace? That Becky and Erin can come down and feed me and cater for my needs. Just so long as that bloody retriever stays away I’ll be happy. But no, I’m afraid that for the next 16 days my life is going to be one of misery and frustration and all because they have to have a poxy holiday.

The sods!

PPP x

The Vigil

I made a rookie error last night gentle reader and I could kick myself. I caught a mouse (with ease) and raced onto my boat to torment it further. I was in the mood for a good bit of mouse teasing and seeing as Ange was out for the evening I knew I could do it without her berating me. The lummox was in but that was no problem. He was sat listening to music and was therefore distracted. I took the mouse into the darkest part of the boat I could find, outside the bathroom. And there I sat for a while knocking it about and then letting it think that it was safe before savaging it again. This went on for a good few minutes but then the lummox got off the couch to change the cd and I turned away from the mouse to see what was happening. The rodent seized his chance and fled for his life, darting behind the cd case.

“Bugger!” I thought, and I was very annoyed with myself. Of course I did all I could to retrieve the beastly thing without the lummox noticing but there were some thin pieces of wood propped up against the cd case and I accidentally knocked some of them over which made quite a clatter and thus alerted the lummox. He leapt off the couch and came to see what was happening. Of course when I say leapt I mean that he shambled to his feet with considerable effort. I was still trying to curl my paw around the back of the case to try and reach the mouse and he obviously realised what was happening. He demanded to know what I was doing but I ignored him and continued to try and extract my quarry. Lummoxy fetched a torch and had a look behind the case but he couldn’t see the mouse and he switched it off again and returned to the couch. There was nothing else for it. I was going to have to sit and watch and wait for that mouse to come out.

And that’s what I did. For a good long time I held a vigil, staring at the gap where the mouse had gone in waiting for him to show his face again. But alas there was neither hide nor hair of him to be seen. And like any cat worthy of the name I kept up my vigil for many hours. Ange eventually came home and they both went to bed. But not me. Oh no, I remained at my post, despite Ange telling me yet again that I was naughty. She was wasting her breath gentle reader, wasting her breath as it fell on deaf ears. I was concentrating too much on the job in paw. Eventually, I changed tack and went into the bedroom in the small hours to try and lull the mouse into a false sense of security. And it worked! He came creeping out at about four in the morning and I heard him. I shot off the bed (waking the lummox up in the process, hee hee!) and tore into the living room and almost had him but he just managed to get under one of the armchairs a split-second before I got my claws into him.

That meant that my vigil continued, well at least for another hour until the humans got up when I thought it best to stop before Ange started on me again. Anyone would think she was some kind of mouse protection activist the way she carries on. And besides, I know the way of mice. I knew that all I had to do was wait until later in the day when those two weren’t about and so with a flick of my fine tail I went to bed for a few hours. I knew also that there was no way the mouse could get off the boat and so I would pounce on him at some point in the near future. Well, that’s my plan at any rate. It may not happen. He may well expire from the mauling I gave him but so be it. A cat’s got to do what a cat’s got to do. But I’m pleased with myself for keeping up such a vigil long into the night. Yes, rather pleased with myself.

PPP x

Doctor

Poor, knackered old sod. The lummox I mean. He really is a physical wreck. An absolute shambles of a man and a warning to all of the effects of gluttony and sedentary living. And so he’s been off to see the doctor again this afternoon. Apparently its for something called fibromyalgia. No, I haven’t got a clue what that is either but it seems to give him some jip. Watching him shuffle about the place moaning and groaning just lately has left me feeling almost sorry for the berk. Almost.

He should take after me. Healthy living is the only way forward. Why, I haven’t been to see the vet in years. Don’t need to as I am in perfect trim and as athletic as they come. I leap like a salmon onto the roof of my boat whilst the lummox grovels up onto it with his bones creaking and his reedy lips uttering all sorts of grunts and oaths. I sprint along the mooring like an Olympian whilst he hobbles along like a lame cart horse.

Take my advice my chubby servant. Lose a few pounds and get some exercise. Obviously you’re never going to be as svelte or as agile as me but at least you won’t get out of breath opening a sachet of cat food or answering the phone. Honestly, how he manages to go to work is beyond me. He comes home drenched in sweat and collapses on the couch as soon as he gets in. No wonder he needs to see the quack.

Anyway, he came waddling home with a prescription for some painkillers and advice to not over do it. Over do it??? He couldn’t over do it if his life depended on it. He’s as much use as a one-legged man at an arse kicking competition most of the time. In fact, if anything, he’s constantly under doing it. And, now, as a result he’s had to seek medical treatment. I shall have to show him the way and lead by example. After all, as much as he gets on my wick, I still need my staff to be fit and ready to serve.

Fibromyalgia be buggered!

PPP x

Treated Like Shite

I have been treated abominably gentle reader. That’s the only word for it – abominably. It’s been the bank holiday weekend and you would have thought that I should have been pampered and enjoyed some peace. But no! Here’s what happened.

Friday night, the humans bugger off and leave me. All well and good as that means that I have the boat to myself. However, that also meant that there was no-one to feed me in the morning so I had no breakfast until they rolled home in the afternoon. Great! I thought. Food at last. But there was a massive down side in the shape of that feckin’ Labrador who they had brought down with them. Barking and yelping and generally getting on my nerves again. You see, Becky and Jason had gone away for the weekend and so we had to have that pillock on the boat. They took him home about midday on the Sunday much to my relief and I expected them to return within the hour and comfort me for my distress that he had caused. But that didn’t happen. They stayed up at Becky’s and got out of their minds on red wine. Probably cheap muck as well. Chateau de Bingley. Absolutely arseholed they were by all accounts and in a state of dishevelment when they did eventually return on the Monday morning where again, I was waiting for my breakfast.

Utter shite. Complete and utter shite. That’s no way for any cat to be treated let alone Pixie Poo Poo. Oh sure, food was left out for me when they went but what the bloody hell was I supposed to do when that was all gone. And as for that sodding four legged barking machine being here again and ruining my weekend, well the least said the better. So bugger the lot of them I thought and I have remained aloof and cool towards them since. I’ve never known such contempt and it shall be long remembered, trust me on that one.

PPP x 

Mexican Standoff

You would have been proud of me today gentle reader. I stood my ground. By God I did! For a while now there’s been another cat trying to claim the mooring as his own. I don’t mean that black and white fairy that I saw off last month, he’s hasn’t dared show his face again. No, there’s this other creature skulking about. A long furred, hulking great brute of a thing. Now, as you know, I am a rather petite little cat that you wouldn’t expect to get involved in too much roughness but that’s where you’d be wrong my friends. If my brother taught me nothing else, he taught me how to stick up for myself and I certainly do.

So there I was this morning taking a stroll down the mooring when all of a sudden furry bollocks appears out of the bushes and tries to intimidate me. Huh! If he thought for one minute that Pixie Poo Poo was going to turn tail and run then he was mistaken. Despite him being twice my size I stood my ground and growled for all I was worth. He growled too and soon it became a contest to see who could growl the loudest and longest and I was in no mood to back down. But, just as I was starting to get the upper paw the lummox came bounding up the stairs and his sudden appearance startled my opponent and he ran away.

Ooh, I was cross with lummox and gave him the glaring of a lifetime. I was on the verge of winning the standoff and he spoiled it. Apparently he had heard the growling contest and had come up to see what was happening. Well, I’ve two things to say to that. 1) Mind your own business. 2) Just let cats be cats without interfering. So now I don’t know. I don’t think it’s the end of the matter and it remains to be seen if that furry thing will return. But if he does I’ll be ready for him. This mooring ain’t big enough for the both of us.

PPP x

Ange's Birthday

It’s Ange’s birthday today. I won’t reveal her age but it’s somewhere between 56 and 58, I’ll leave you to work on that one. Anyway, I’d like to wish her many happy returns. Of course, when I say that, I mean I wish that she would make many returns to the shop to get food to make me happy. Hah!

On the subject of presents I thought I would keep it simple and therefore have got her nothing. And why shouldn’t I? Every gift I’ve ever presented to either of that pair has gone unappreciated. It’s true. Mice, voles, shrews, birds, you name it, I’ve given them some lovely gifts over the years and not one of them have they kept or put on the sideboard to look at. So bugger it, I’ve got her sod all.

The lummox has bought her some presents though including a litre bottle of Irish cream liqueur. That means that the weekend will be given over to revelry and bawdy behaviour. Well stuff that, I’ll have no part in it and will remain aloft from their sozzled state. Mind you birthdays are only once a year so I’ll let it pass. It will be mine in October and you can rest assured it will be a far more dignified affair all round.

PPP x

Rooftop Drama

Regular readers of this and my previous blog (Pixie’s Diary) will know that one of my favourite pastimes is spending time up on the roof of my boat. It’s especially enjoyable when the sun is shining and I can roll about to my hearts content on the warm steel and feel all scrummy and nice. Except, that at the moment, there’s a problem. You see the humans, being so inept, have moored my boat under a lot of trees. ‘What’s wrong with that Pixie?’ I hear you ask. Well I’ll tell you. There’s plenty wrong with it. In a nutshell it means that my roof is constantly coated in detritus of all manner. There’s twigs, blossom, leaves, berries, sap… the list could go on. How can I possibly roll around with all that lot up there? But the worst of it is the blasted, bloody pigeons that have deemed to make their home in said trees (you can guess where this is going can’t you?). Yes gentle reader, the dirty bastards poo all over my roof. It’s everywhere! You can’t move up there for pigeon shit! And I’m not prepared to put up with it much longer.

However…

I overheard Ange telling the lummox that she’s going to get up there tomorrow and clean it. About bloody time too if you ask me, and what’s that portly oaf going to be doing as well? He needs to get his fat arse in gear and get up there to do his bit too. Honestly, you’d think they had nothing better to do with their time. They spend their weekends sleeping or gadding about or pissing it up and all the while I can’t go onto my roof for fear of sullying my gorgeous pads with pigeon feces. I just hope they crack on and do a decent job of it so that I can crack on and enjoy myself. Anyway, I’ve said my piece now and Ange sounds determined so I’ll just wait and see if she comes good and does it. And as for those pigeons, if they get close enough…

PPP x

Safety First

It was an important day today gentle reader. Today was boat safety inspection time. Yes, my boat was to be inspected to make sure that it was safe for me. This man comes along apparently and checks it all over. Presumably things like making sure the gunwales aren't too slippery for me and the cat flap is swinging correctly and my feeding station is properly cleaned. Stuff like that. Well, that's what I thought at any rate. To be purrfectly honest with you I slept through the whole thing and only woke up and showed myself as the man was finishing.

Imagine then my surprise to discover that the beastly chap had failed my boat. By thunder I was outraged. And it turned out that he wasn't checking all those things at all. No, he was more interested in battery terminals and gas hoses whatever they are. In fact there was quite a list of jobs that needed doing to get the place up to scratch. Which led to my next question. Just what the bloody hell is the lummox pissing about at? He's at home most of the day for crying out loud. He could have had all those jobs done months ago. But oh no, he just comes rolling home from work and sits listening to music or tapping away into that laptop of his in the vainglorious belief that he could be some kind of writer. Hah! He struggles to write the bloody shopping list never mind literature.

Anyway, the humans have now got a list of jobs to do to get the place right and they had better crack on with it. I understand that they're all trifling little jobs that even he should be able to manage without too much trouble despite being a ham-fisted, sausage-fingered brute of a man. My safety is paramount and failure to make certainty of it is frankly unacceptable.

PPP x

A Thick Ear

He's been back again! That black and white interloper who's got the hots for me. There I was today sunning myself in the wheelhouse when all of a sudden he rolls up and starts poncing up and down my mooring. Posing and prancing about like some kind of Victorian dandy-prat. Well, I gave him fair warning. He can't say that I didn't give him fair warning. I growled at him good and hard. The growling of a lifetime I gave him. But still he persisted in making eyes at me and swanning about like he owned the place. So I thought to myself - 'There's only one way to deal with this blighter!' - and I launched myself at him with all the pace and power I could muster. He didn't run at first as maybe he thought that I had succumbed to his charms and was making a B line for him. Hah! As if? No gentle reader, I caught him completely unawares and before he knew what was happening I socked him one with my right paw.

The shock on his face was obvious as my paw connected with his ear and he leapt into the air with fright and the sudden realisation that his amorous advances had been most keenly rejected. His tail dropped between his legs and he turned and bolted away as fast as he could. I felt vindicated and rather chuffed with myself. But then Ange rather spoiled the moment by coming out and telling me that I shouldn't have done it and that I should share my moorings with other cats. Oh dear, oh dear. I thought she knew me better than that. And oh my word, if my brother had been here that black and white nancy would have gotten a lot more than a thick ear I can tell you. He'd have got a bloody good hiding!

So now it remains to be seen wether or not he will return after that. I couldn't have made it more obvious that I don't want him hanging around the place like a bad stench, could I? And if he does show up again I'll lamp him on the other side and see how he likes that.

PPP x

On The Hunt

I got me a mouse this morning my furry, feline friends. A fine, fat fieldmouse. The first I've had since we got here. Naturally it took all my cunning and dexterity to hunt the beast down but I got him in the end. Gave him the mauling of a lifetime I did. Then I took it onto my boat to show the lummox what I'd done expecting him to be glowing with pride and he just said I was naughty and that he was going to tell Ange about it. Ooh, I'm so scared. Yeah whatever. Anyway I left it on the kitchen floor as you do hoping to come back and poke it with my paw later after I'd had a kip but lummoxy picked it up and threw it into the canal. Prick! If he thinks that's going to deter me from hunting he's desperately wrong. He couldn't be more wrong in fact. Seriously, if that's what he thinks he's as wrong as velvet loon pants with twenty inch flares (people born before 1970 will know what I mean).

Anyway, I think I've got my eye in (and my claws) now and shall get out there again and give those pesky rodents a bloody good seeing to. I'll show them who's boss. I'll teach them not to scamper around with their beady little eyes and twitching noses. Yes my Pixie followers, there's a gonna be some huntin' going on around these parts. Just you wait and see.

PPP x

Side Hatch Shenanigans

I said it didn't I? I said that the side hatch was just for me and not for billing and cooing at ducklings. And I've been proved right gentle reader. For I have indeed found yet another fun pastime for myself involving the side hatch. It's all quite simple but tremendous enjoyment. Basically, the humans open the side hatch for me (they do it on the pretence of getting fresh air of course) and then I go outside and race up and down the gunwales and throw myself through the hatch and onto the living room floor. I did it six times in a row yesterday. Six times! Oh it really is great fun, it helps keep me trim and svelte and best of all it sends the humans into a frenzy of worry about me. You ought to hear Ange fretting and fussing and telling me to stop in case I hurt myself. Tut tut! Utter piffle my friends, utter piffle. Does she not know that we cats always land on our feet and apart from anything else she must surely realise what a fine, athletic puss I am and that a jump down of a mere three and a half feet is nothing for a cat of my poise and dexterity. The lummox seems to agree with her too but at the end of the day nobody really cares what he thinks anyway.

So the side hatch has come into it's own at last and is being used for it's true purpose, ergo - my entertainment. I don't know how much it cost to put in and frankly I couldn't care less. That's the humans job, to foot the bill around here, it's my job to derive pleasure out of the thing.

Ducklings be buggered!

PPP x

The Litter Fairy

I'm ever so sorry to have to touch on this subject again but what is it with humans and their, frankly, vile toilet habits gentle reader? Take this pair of mine for example. They do their business in a plastic box (which they call - the Thetford) which they have to put fluid into to mask the stench. Then when the box is full they have to take up to the CRT building at the locks and tip it all down a hole. Can you imagine anything more horrid? No, neither can I. It's something or other to do with being on the boat and not having a full flushing Thomas Crapper and so they dump in a box. Deplorable if you ask me. When we were at the caravan they had a full flushing Thomas Crapper (well, that's what the lummox calls it) and that's almost as bad. They had to pump water into the thing to get rid of their waste.

Why oh why can't they be like us cats and use a litter tray. It's quick, it's clean and it's hygenic. And best of all the next time you go to use it all the poo has gone as if by magic. I know that many cats belive in the Litter Fairy and yet there are others who are sceptical about it. But, how else can you explain it? You go to the loo and then when you return to the tray the next day it's empty. Incredible! Maybe there isn't a fairy after all. Maybe it's the cat litter itself that's magic. Who knows? One thing's for sure, the humans could learn a thing or two from us and then they wouldn't have to put their plastic box in the back of the car and drive it all the way up to Five Rise to dispose of it.

Cats! The hygenic species!

PPP x

The Morning Chorus

The lummox let out a cascade of farts this morning when  he got out of bed. And you've never heard a more disgusting noise in your life. Ripping and squelching and bubbling away like a knackered fire hose. For a few moments I thought that he had, in fact, soiled himself. The odour convinced me of that as well. But I soon realised that he hadn't when he went to the toilet and unleashed yet another barrage of flatus over the lavatory pan that sounded like a chainsaw starting up underwater. Awful, my friends, truly awful! I think the problem was that the scouse hippie is over for the weekend and the pair of them had a night on the black stout. In fact, they've been on the piss since Friday. Something or other about some guy called St Patrick and it being his day. Well, I don't know what their cause for celebration was but I wasn't celebrating this morning when the fat berk let off. Also they had all consumed a large quantity of Thai green curry the night before as well which obviously didn't help. Listen up you odious uprights, if you're going to fill yourself with spicy food and about ten pints of heavy then you've no-one else to blame for the condition of your abdomen but yourselves. There, I've said it!

The effluvium has just about cleared now so I'm going to (tentatively) go back into the bedroom and get some shut eye. After which I might have a nap. Then maybe a snooze later on. Hopefully they'll all keep out and give me some peace. They can sit in the living room and blow off to their heart's content. I just hope they leave the side hatch open.

PPP x

I Don't Want To Be Picky, But...

The lummox is really getting right on my nerves folks. I mean really winding me up. He's developed this unbelievably annoying habit and I feel like scratching his bloody eyes out for it. He's started calling me 'Picky'. I don't mean picky as in being choosy about my food or something. I mean he's actually calling me Picky for my name. He puts on this irritable goo-goo gaa-gaa voice that should normally be reserved for kittens and babies and then abbreviates my name to 'Picky'. There I am lying on the bed enjoying myself and he comes home from work, sticks his fat head around the bedroom door and starts going 'Picky Poo Poo' at me like some kind of demented three year old. He's making himself look and sound ridiculous. I mean, I ask you - f***ing Picky! The name's Pixie you damned great bloated sack of Guinness and don't forget it.

PPP x

It's Electric

We have electricity! Yes, gentle reader, we have good old electricity back on my boat. I mean the proper stuff that comes into the boat down a cable not that 12 volt stuff that requires the sodding engine to be run every other day and therefore disturbs my peace. And you know what this means don't you? It means that we will soon have the fridge back up and running and as a result it will be filled with all the things that I like to eat. You know, salmon fillets and roast chicken and the like. Apparently the humans have to pay for the electricity and I shall of course let them. There is a meter or something that controls it and they have to feed it pound coins in order for the supply to continue. All well and good I hear you say. Well no, not entirely.

You see, having electricity also has it's drawbacks. The main one being that the humans use it as a means of entertainment. Before you know it they'll be watching all sorts of crap on the television with the volume too loud and then there's all those dvd thingys as well. I don't want to lie on the couch with all that going on now do I? The worst of it though is when they start playing music. How much Jethro-bloody-Tull does the lummox have to play before he's satisfied. And Uriah Heep. He never plays any of the cat bands that I like. I'd love to hear a bit of Deep Purr-ple or some Iron Meowden or even a bit of Deaf Leopard. But no, we have to endure endless repetitions of his progressive rock noodlings.

So there's good and bad points for the old leccy. We have lights and the fridge and even hot water if we need it which is all fine and dandy. But then we have constant re-runs of The Naked Gun and interminable bouts of Rush and Black Sabbath which is selfish and gets on my tits. So thanks Benjamin Franklin and no thanks at the same time.

PPP x

YEEEEEHAAAAAH!

Just a quick note gentle reader to say that the dog is going home tomorrow and how glad I am about that. I'd like to say that it's been fun and enjoyable having him on board. I'd like to be able to say that but that would be a complete and utter lie. So I'll just simply say 'sod off dog' and if I ever see you again it will be a million years too soon. Oh yes, and take your dirty, half chewed bone with you. I don't want to have to look at that thing. Aah, it's going to be ace, a dog free zone at last. Now I can really start to appreciate my new mooring for all it's worth.

PPP x

Don Juan

I really am speechless gentle reader. I mean, I ought to give the humans the meowing of a lifetime and yet I'm absolutely speechless. They've gone and arranged another new mooring without my say so. What part of MY BOAT don't they understand? The my bit or the boat bit! There I was thoroughly enjoying being outside ther cafe at Five Rise being admired by all and sundry as they walk past and now we've bloody well moved again. Don't get me wrong, it's a nice mooring and it looks like there will be mice to be had here but it's all been done in the most underhanded fashion again without checking with me first.

But anyhow, let's look at the positives shall we? It seems to be a good little sun trap here and I can and will be spending a lot of time sunbathing on the roof come summer. It's near Five Rise which I like. And there are no nearby trains to disturb my daytime slumber like I've had in the past at other moorings. So there's much to appreciate. There is one teensy, tiny problem though - An interloper! There's a black and white cat here who keeps jumping on the gunwhales and peering through the window. Obviously it's an attempt to catch a glimpse of me and before you know it he'll be hanging around trying to chat me up. Huh! It'll take more than the odd gift of a dead bird and some heavy purring let me tell you. I don't know what it is about Five Rise but all the male cats here are either love struck or horny or both. Sex maniacs the lot of them. Well I'm sorry fellas but my mind is set on higher things so jog on and try the local talent instead. So Mr Black & White may as well just bugger off back to where he came from.

The dog is still here but I'm pleased to say that he'll be going in less than a week's time. It's been tiresome gentle reader. very tiresome with his constant barking, dog hairs everywhere, and him chewing things (he had one of the lummox's slippers in his mouth the other day and I'm still gagging at the thought of it). So between a new mooring, overly amourous cats and over excitable dogs it's been a testing time for Pixie Poo Poo. But I'm a resiliant puss at the end of the day and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. The dog will go home and any interloping cats will be chased away as and when. So don't worry about me folks, I'm ok.

PPP x

Dogs Allowed

Despite having the dog here and knackering up my life for a month I have found a great new dog related pastime. We're currently moored up right next to the Five Rise Cafe which I've always enjoyed but it's only now that I can see one of the great benefits from being here...

In a word - dogs!

Yes gentle reader dogs. You see the cafe owner (for reasons best known to himself) allows dogs into his premises. The sign says 'well behaved dogs' so that rules Noel out and now I come to think about it I'm not sure that that sign is in fact an oxymoron. There are no well behaved dogs as far as I now. Anyway, the fun starts when the dogs come to the cafe. I simply go up on the roof and parade up and down and genreally enjoy the fresh air. This sends the dogs into barking mode, especially the ones whose owners have elected to sit outside the cafe. However, because I'm on the roof and they're legally required to be on leads they can't touch me and I can take the piss until I'm bored with it all and go back in. It's great fun and it really winds them up. I love listening to their owners telling them to be quiet and looking embarrassed as their hounds make fools of themselves. It makes up for having that lout of a labrador on board.

Actually, it's quite a nice day and the cafe is still open for another hour or so. I might just go up and have a bit of fun. Who would have thought that dogs could be such a great source of merriment?

PPP x

On The Move

Without so much as even consulting me the humans have moved my boat. I was just getting used to this Gallows Bridge place and now I find myself transported up the canal. We've stopped for the night at Dowley Gap, my old stomping ground and do you know what, I might just go for a stomp this evening. It's all well and good going cruising and I quite like chasing rodents in new and interesting locations but as I have said in the past - it's my boat and we'll go when I decide! But hey ho! Here we are. Tomorrow we're going to go up to the top of Five Rise Locks which should be nice I suppose. I've always liked it up there and I once had a bit of a thing with a certain cat who lived in the area. I won't mention his name and when I say I had a thing what I mean was that he relentlessly pursued me in the vain hope of romance between us. He was ok but it'll take more than a bit of billing and cooing to get around Pixie Poo Poo. Good job my big brother wasn't around or he'd have had some explaining to do!

I'm not sure how long we're going to be out and about for but Five Rise should be fun. It would be even more fun if that great berk of a gun dog wasn't here and of course I've got the humans to thank for that haven't I? Still, it's the weekend soon and I might just go and have a good night out for myself. I'm certain that the humans will have a good night in and do their level best to get alcoholic poisoning. You really ought to see the lummox and Jason going for it with the vino. Honestly, I can hardly move my paws for empty bottles. And I suppose being in a new location like Five Rise will give them another excuse for more of the same. Still, we'll see how it goes being out and about.

PPP x

A Month Of Dog

Well, I knew it was coming and it has gentle reader. It's that time of the year again, February, when the caravan park is closed for a month and everybody has to move out. Last year the humans rented a cottage for me in Haworth which was nice and I even let them stay there as well. The trouble was that Becky and Erin came too with that Labrador of theirs. It went ok in the end as we all know who is in charge around here and things went relatively smoothly. This time though Ange and the lummox have gone and invited them all (Becky's boyfriend Jason included) to come and stay for the month on my boat. I don't mind Erin and Jason seems like a nice enough fellow but Becky is still in my bad books for the way she roughed me up the other week and as for the dog, well, where do I start...

He's been here for three days and he's already got right on my wick. For one thing he barks. And when I say barks I mean BARKS!!! Honestly, whenever anyone walks past the boat either on the mooring or on the towpath he starts. And what a thundering great git he makes of himself. Jumping around on the furniture and baying at the windows like some demented pillock. What an awful bloody noise he makes. The humans tell him to be quiet but he's either barking too loud to hear them or he's too dense to understand such basic commands. Seriously, he's making a complete tit of himself.

Another thing he does is to get all excited and stupid whenever I enter the room. He seems to be labouring under the misapprehension that I would want to play his boorish, silly games with him and chase around the boat. I'm a cat for crying out loud, that's not what we do. I really find it quite tiresome and very, very irritating. So I've taken to spending most of my time in the bedroom to avoid him at all costs. I think that's for the best. Ange brings my food into me and I've got the bed to lie on and the window to look through and so I can just stay in there and let him get on with it. The barking still grates on my nerves though.

So I've got to put up with this for another twenty five days until he goes home and let me tell you I can't wait. I have to get my exercise at night time now just to avoid him. Apparently he's called Noel. Well at least I think he is. The humans say that word to him a lot. But then they also say STOP! QUIET! SHUSH! and GET DOWN! quite a lot at him as well so it could be any one of those. Dogs! Huh! March can't come soon enough.


PPP x

Settling In

Well it's been the best part of a week now gentle reader and I'm settling in quite nicely. I still haven't fully forgotten nor forgiven the way I was roughly handled to get me down here and it's going to take some time before I'm over that one let me tell you. But other than that I'm doing well. I have re-commandeered the bed and use it whenever I damn well please. In fact, I'd forgotten just how comfy it was. It's a good bit higher than the one at my caravan and therefore requires more agility on my behalf but that's not really a problem for a cat of my prowess. I've been back up on the roof a few times and have been enjoying teasing dogs on the other side of the towpath from there. The mooring is nothing to shout about and so far I haven't seen a single mouse although there are a couple of gobshite squirrels that seem to think they own the place. I shall sort them out in due course. What there also is though is quite a few other boats for me to clamber on and explore and I've given one or two of them a good going over already. They're not as good as my boat though of course.

Ange and the lummox are keeping the place warm (as they should) and I have had a good many tasty treats coming my way too. That's obviously an attempt to curry favour with me after what happened last Monday but I'm enjoying it none-the-less. The worst thing about it all really is that there is no mains electricity and so the engine has to be run every other day which of course disturbs my sleep during the the hours of daylight. Added to this there's the other annoyance of the alarm clock they've gone and bought. Every weekday morning at precisely five o'clock its beep beep beep bloody beep. Wakes me up with a start it does. At least that horrible noise signals that I'm about to have the bed all to myself though.

There are a couple of new features that have been added to my boat in my absence as well. Firstly there is a new wheelhouse with two very sexy looking catflaps which are befitting of a cat of my stature and social standing. I'm enjoying them immensely. Also there is a side hatch where there used to be a window. Apparently the humans put it there as an other means of escape in case of fire which is total bollocks in my opinion. They've sneaked it in so that they can feed the ducks and spend valuable time oohing and aahing at them. I'll tell you one thing my friends, in my eyes it's not for the ducks, it's for me. I shall be using it as an alternative means of entering and exiting the boat purely for my own amusement. Ergo - my boat, my side hatch! Not a lot else has changed though since I last saw the old place.

Overall, it's good to be back. Pixie Poo Poo is master of the canal boat Walrus yet again. And when I say master I mean it. Do you know what the lummox got given for a birthday present last year? A hat with the word 'captain' on it. Captain my arse! He couldn't captain a rubber ring in the swimming baths. Oafish great numpty that he is. There's only one captain on this boat and she's small, black, furry and gorgeous. I'll leave you to work that one out.

See you soon


PPP x

Wo-manhandled!!!

The outrage!!! The indignity!!! The assault on my personage!!! I've never been so f****ing livid in my life. I have been treated abominably and it shall not go unforgotten. Let me explain...

The humans have been busying themselves all week making preparations for us all to move back to my boat. All well and good I hear you say. But here's the problem. They had it in mind to move back on board on the Saturday afternoon but I didn't want to. I had plans for the evening as it happened and in any case, I thought to myself 'it's my boat, we'll move on when I'm ready and in due course. So I curled myself up on the bed and let them get on with packing for when that time should come. Imagine then my shock and surprise when the lummox came and lifted me off the bed. His gnarled, hairy great mitts seized me and before I knew what was going on I was carried into the front room. He did his best to be gentle which must have been difficult for such a ham-fisted ape of a man like him and he is prone to picking me up from time to time to marvel at my fur (understandable) and so I decided not to claw his beady eyes out on this occasion. In fact it wasn't until he got me into the front room that I realised what his underhanded intention really was. The pet carrier was on the table with the door open!!!

Oh he though he was being so clever trying to get me in there whilst cooing at me thinking that I was daft enough to allow such whimsy to work on me. Well, let me tell you this - I resisted the berk for all I was worth. I dug my claws into the table top and held on. Time and time again he tried to cajole me in but again and again I stood my ground. 'Who does he think he bloody well is?' I asked myself. Then to make matters worse Ange joined in and I had the pair of them trying to shoehorn me into that basket. And still I refused to yield. Then they tried a different tack. Ange picked me up and carried me outside. I thought she was going to do the decent thing and let me go so that I could go and simmer down as I was feeling pretty irate by this time. But no! Do you know what she did? She carried me into the car! THE CAR!!! I was incensed by now and I climbed all over the dashboard and steering wheel trying to find my way out again but to no avail. Then out of the rear window I saw Becky approaching with that monstrous great labrador in tow. Could things get any worse?

Fortunately by this time I think the humans had given up. They knew better than to carry on with their hopeless attempts to basket me and I was allowed out of the car. I stormed off in a magnificent huff with my tail rigidly in the air. The winner!

So that was Saturday. I eventually calmed down and after a while went back to bed until the evening when I had, as I have mentioned, plans. But then worse was to come. On Monday they brought in reinforcements in the form of Becky. And this is where the real indignity comes. The buggers locked my catflap so I couldn't get out and then Becky crept up behind me gripped me by the scruff of my beautiful neck, put her other hand on my lovely bottom and whilst I was still reeling from her temerity bundled me into the basket and locked the door. They had me trapped and I meowed my opinion on the matter as loud as I could. My cries fell on deaf ears and within a matter of seconds I was in the car again and we were off. And that was the last time I ever saw my caravan.

I meowed and I cried and I shat the basket for all I was worth but they just carried on. Ange did her best to placate me with soothing words but on this occasion her best simply wasn't good enough. The journey took about fifteen minutes and soon the door was opened again and I was released. I looked around. I was back, back on my boat. I stomped into the bedroom and ignored those two for the best part of an hour. Eventually though I came out, had something to eat and re-familiarised myself with the old place. And do you know what, it was good to be back. Lummoxy had lit a fire (something he actually is quite good at) and the place was cosy. But damn it all, at the end of the day I am Pixie Poo Poo and I won't be handled in such a way. It's going to take a lot of Dreamies, Salmon, Chicken etc etc to put this one right let me tell you. And as for that Becky, she just might find a dead mouse in her slipper come February. Watch this space...

PPP x

My Boat - An Update

It seems that things have progressed well vis-a-vis my boat being brought back to Shipley. Ange and the lummox with Becky, Erin and Jason have got it there to the new mooring and all is well. I understand there were one or two problems involved along the way but seeing as how I stayed at the caravan and slept all weekend then that was no concern of mine. In fact, if anything I had the harder time of it being without servants for two days. Apparently there was some problems with the locks and something about a tree in the canal. Yawn! Just bloody well get on with it I say and stop making out it was some great adventure. Humans! Have to to turn everything into a drama.

I'm not sure when I will move back onto my boat. That will of course be my decision and not the humans. After all, I'm quite content where I am for now. We'll see, we'll see. I'm also led to believe that the boat itself performed admirably and that it is in fine shape and ready for me to grace again with my person. I'm also of no doubt that whilst cruising my boat to it's new mooring that they emptied numerous bottles of beer, wine and spirits and behaved in a deplorable manner during the hours of darkness. It's what they do.

So watch this space gentle reader and I'll let you know when I'm back on board and ruler of the canal again. I mean this place is alright; warm and comfy etc, but my boat has more space and I'm the kind of cat who likes to stretch out when I'm relaxing after a hard day. But like I say, when I'm good and ready.

PPP x

Working Class Lummox

Well first of all may I start with a big Happy New Year to all my feline followers and to any humans who are reading this - up yours! The new year has started really well for me. The lummox has begun his new job and that means that the two of them are out of bed a lot earlier than before so it's win-win for me. He started on Tuesday and got himself into yet another state of near mania beforehand as he had singularly failed to ascertain what time he was meant to start. What a shambles he is! He was up at ten to six on the first day making numerous phone calls to his new employer trying to find out what to do. The buffoon! Lack of forward planning my fat friend, lack of forward planning. Anyway, the fact remains that he got to work and that now the alarm goes off at five o'clock each weekday morning signalling that the bed is all mine. Ange usually gets up first whilst fatso lies in bed for an extra five or ten minutes, blowing off. Typical of the man I suppose. They're out of the caravan by about quarter to six and then it's all peace, quiet and slumber for me.

The lummox has been issued with a uniform of sorts consisting of black trousers, T shirt and fleece and steel toe capped boots. And with his hair in that ponytail that he now insists on wearing he looks like a cross between Action Man and some kind of flabby night club doorman. Apparently he spends his time (a paltry three hours a day) emptying bins at the university. I always knew he 'd go up in the world! The good thing is though that he gets paid on the 28th of each month so guess who is going to be lining up for a tin of salmon (Pacific red) that day. Yep! Yours truly. And by thunder there had better be one. Come to think of it, with the pair of them now in gainful employment there really shouldn't be any shortage of the stuff should there?

He comes bumbling back home at about ten o'clock and this is where things take a nosedive gentle reader. He feels so tired at having got up early and done a piffling bit of work that he feels the need to get back into bed for a few hours. Out-bloody-rageous!!! He comes sneaking back into the bedroom and crawls into the bed wherever he can get in. Of course being such a good natured soul I let this pass for the first few days but I soon grew tired of his snoring and tossing and turning at that hour and decided to take measures to prevent it. I now sleep as close to the very middle of the bed as I can which means he can't get in without disturbing me, something that he is (rightfully) mortally afraid of. And it worked! He's now taken to napping on the couch, so once again my ingenuity shines through. I overheard him telling Ange that he hopes that this need to sleep will pass soon and that he'll be used to the early start etc etc. Well, I don't know about that. So long as I don't get disturbed anymore and so long as his wages are spent in the right direction (mine!) then I suppose it will be all well and good.

PPP x