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