As you all know I am something of a territorial cat. My home and the land surrounding it to within several hundred yards is mine. All mine. That's just the way I've always rolled and since moving to my house that's been the case also. Nothing's changed in my mind. However, there is a cat living two doors down by the name of Elsa who was technically here before me and as such I've had to engage in something of a turf war with her. Now though, after several months of tactical (and physical) purr-suasion, we have come to a sort of mew-tual understanding.
Make no mistake, I'm top cat around here and Elsa knows that but we tend to give each other a wide berth most of the time. We've also come to an agreement that I can go into Elsa's house and eat her food and she can come into mine and eat the mass-produced shash that the humans put out for me sometimes (you know, Felix and that sort of muck).
One thing I do insist on though, every time that Elsa comes in, is to give her the hissing of a lifetime to remind her who's who. If I see her in the kitchen I stop and hiss as loudly as I can as a warning not to overstep the mark. You see, hissing is one of the finest weapons in a cats arsenal. Let's face it, we'd all prefer not to have to use our teeth and claws unless absolutely necessary and so by hissing we're issuing a warning to back off in no uncertain terms. And of course it works. It works on humans, dogs, swans, geese (although they hiss back) and especially other cats.
We are cats and it's what we do. Why, it's part of our hiss-tory (see what I did there!)
PPP x
Thursday, 29 August 2019
Saturday, 17 August 2019
Happy B.C.A.D Everyone!!!
Hi gentle reader. Today is Black Cat Appreciation Day and so I thought to myself, what could be better than to treat you all to some fabulous pictures of me? And no, this isn't laziness and I'm affronted that you should even consider such a thing. Anyway, here we go.
So there you go gentle reader (or should that be gentle viewer?), a real feast of gorgeous, silken, black furriness to brighten your day. Don't say I never do anything for you!
PPP x
A shot of me, in repose, in front of the fire
Me checking out the strange box that the lummox plays his prog rock on
A classic, languorous pose
A thoughtful and poetic outdoor shot displaying my full-some tail at it's best
And finally, my late brother. What a handsome fellow he was
PPP x
Wednesday, 7 August 2019
A Bit Of A Pickle
Do you recall, gentle reader, about two years ago, when I wrote about the annoying habit that the lummox had begun by calling me 'Picky'? I wasn't at all happy about this but over time it subsided and he began to refer to me more often as just simply 'Pix', which I allowed as it seemed quite cool in a way having an abbreviation. However, it saddens me to report that things recently have taken a turn for the worse. You'll not believe what the f***ing idiot has started calling me now. He's calling me... drum roll please...
'PICKLE!'
For crying out loud what on earth is wrong with the man? He's 53 years old for Gods' sake. Not old enough for dementia but old enough to not use such childish language in reference to me. Pickle? I ask you. What the bloody hell is that nonsense all about? And the awful, gurning face he has when he says it and the vile, hairball inducing, babyish tone of voice that makes my fur stand on end. Well, two can play at that game. I can think of plenty of words beginning with the letter P that I could use to describe him. For example: Prat! Pillock! Ponce! Popinjay! Prick! The list could (and should) go on but I simply don't have the time to waste on the pansy (there's another one).
Hopefully it'll stop at some point soon. If not I may have to leave a mouse on the bed or shit in one of his slippers. Yes, yes, that'll teach him. I just wonder what nonsense is going to come spewing out of his odious mouth next.
Pickle? FFS!
PPP x
'PICKLE!'
For crying out loud what on earth is wrong with the man? He's 53 years old for Gods' sake. Not old enough for dementia but old enough to not use such childish language in reference to me. Pickle? I ask you. What the bloody hell is that nonsense all about? And the awful, gurning face he has when he says it and the vile, hairball inducing, babyish tone of voice that makes my fur stand on end. Well, two can play at that game. I can think of plenty of words beginning with the letter P that I could use to describe him. For example: Prat! Pillock! Ponce! Popinjay! Prick! The list could (and should) go on but I simply don't have the time to waste on the pansy (there's another one).
Hopefully it'll stop at some point soon. If not I may have to leave a mouse on the bed or shit in one of his slippers. Yes, yes, that'll teach him. I just wonder what nonsense is going to come spewing out of his odious mouth next.
Pickle? FFS!
PPP x
Saturday, 6 July 2019
What Does He Think I Am? An Armchair?
I'm incensed gentle reader. I'm outraged, offended and affronted.
By whom? I hear you ask. The lummox perhaps?
No! Not on this occasion. This time it's that Terry fellow who calls himself a vet. And I used to like the guy, I really did. He helped me over an eye infection last year and kept me looking beautiful. He knows how to get a cat into a carrier with the minimum of fuss. And, he allows me to walk all over his surgery and laptop without question. But now, he's overstepped the mark. Well overstepped it.
You see, it was time for my annual check up and flea control (and don't take that high-pawed stance with me, we all get them) and so, today, I was whisked away to the vets post haste as they wanted to check my weight as well. No problem there, I thought, no problem at all. Imagine then, to my surprise and horror, that he told Ange and the lummox that I was now classed as a 'big' cat and, get this, that I was 'well upholstered'. What is that supposed to mean? Well upholstered? He makes me sound like a piece of furniture! I tell you what, I almost felt like treating him like a piece of furniture and giving him a good clawing. The truth is, I was too shocked at the time to do anything about it.
I ask you, seriously, I ask you. Look at my photograph, and tell me that that isn't the sveltest example of feline form you've ever seen. Ok, ok, so that picture is 6 years old but so what. Nothing much has changed. I'm as petite and as lissome as I've always been. Well upholstered my pencil sharpener! The man wants striking off. Vets, pfft!
PPP x
By whom? I hear you ask. The lummox perhaps?
No! Not on this occasion. This time it's that Terry fellow who calls himself a vet. And I used to like the guy, I really did. He helped me over an eye infection last year and kept me looking beautiful. He knows how to get a cat into a carrier with the minimum of fuss. And, he allows me to walk all over his surgery and laptop without question. But now, he's overstepped the mark. Well overstepped it.
You see, it was time for my annual check up and flea control (and don't take that high-pawed stance with me, we all get them) and so, today, I was whisked away to the vets post haste as they wanted to check my weight as well. No problem there, I thought, no problem at all. Imagine then, to my surprise and horror, that he told Ange and the lummox that I was now classed as a 'big' cat and, get this, that I was 'well upholstered'. What is that supposed to mean? Well upholstered? He makes me sound like a piece of furniture! I tell you what, I almost felt like treating him like a piece of furniture and giving him a good clawing. The truth is, I was too shocked at the time to do anything about it.
I ask you, seriously, I ask you. Look at my photograph, and tell me that that isn't the sveltest example of feline form you've ever seen. Ok, ok, so that picture is 6 years old but so what. Nothing much has changed. I'm as petite and as lissome as I've always been. Well upholstered my pencil sharpener! The man wants striking off. Vets, pfft!
PPP x
Friday, 28 June 2019
Meow-sical Chairs
Oh I'm having such fun at the moment gentle reader. And I'm driving the lummox to distraction with it too, which is a bonus. On wet days, when I'm bored and can't sleep, I watch what the lummox is doing or rather, where he is sitting. He doesn't know I'm watching of course, being such a dullard, but I am. He'll either be sat at his laptop attempting to convince himself that he's a writer (pfft!) or sitting on his fat arse reading some archaic old Edwardian literature that no-one gives a hoot about anymore or listening to that God-awful twiddly-diddly-dee progressive rock that he insists on playing and I watch and bide my time. I know that before too much longer either his gluttonous appetite or his weak, over-soused bladder is going to make him get up in order to gratify himself. And the moment he does I'm in there like a shot. I steal his chair from right under his bulbous, bloody great nose. Yes, I lie there on the chair he's just vacated with a contented countenance, knowing that there's not a single damn thing he's going to do about it (scared you see) and look on as he sadly retires to another chair, groaning and moaning like an aged orangutan with a hernia. Then, and this is the best bit, I give it ten minutes before getting up and going upstairs to lie on the bed for a few hours, ignoring his cries of 'Oh Pixie!'. You may say this is cruel to do something like this to a dumb animal but let's not forget that this is the man who has thwarted so many of my attempts at mousing, purchased unbelievably shite cat food for me and filled my house with methane gas to the point where I don't think we'll ever clear the effluvium no matter how many windows Ange opens or how many incense sticks she lights. So I say 'balls to it, let's have some fun at his expense!' And it is, so very, very much, fun!
PPP x
PPP x
Sunday, 16 June 2019
Duck And Dive
It's not my fault that someone put a pond just over the wall from the back of my house. Likewise, it's no more my fault if ducklings lose their way and end up on the wrong side of the wall. And it's not my fault that I am a naturally kind and generous cat who enjoys bestowing gifts on people. So why oh why did Ange have a dicky fit when I brought a pair of ducklings home for the two of them this morning? Prattling on about how naughty I am and that ducks are our friends. Erm... I've got some news for you lady. Ducks are food. Check out the cat aisle in Pets At Home.
Anyway, I ignored her lambasting, thinking that at least the lummox would be pleased, given that the man will eat pretty much anything. But no! I had to watch whilst he gave in to his wife's whims and tenderly put the brace of ducklings in a paper bag and place them in the bin outside. Pathetic or what? All he had to do was rustle up a batch of orange sauce and he could have had a gourmet breakfast for himself. I tell you, I simply just won't bother in future. They can blasted well feed themselves from now on.
PPP x
Anyway, I ignored her lambasting, thinking that at least the lummox would be pleased, given that the man will eat pretty much anything. But no! I had to watch whilst he gave in to his wife's whims and tenderly put the brace of ducklings in a paper bag and place them in the bin outside. Pathetic or what? All he had to do was rustle up a batch of orange sauce and he could have had a gourmet breakfast for himself. I tell you, I simply just won't bother in future. They can blasted well feed themselves from now on.
PPP x
Saturday, 25 May 2019
A New Beast
There I was minding my own business, reading the latest copy of Good Mouse-keeping magazine. A couple of good articles this month too. One on combatting the effects the Meni-paws and another on soft fur-nishings and the best way to scratch them. I was enjoying myself, just relaxing and cat-ching up (see what I did there) with my reading. When all of a sudden I heard the most awful bloody commotion coming from downstairs. A sort of high pitched 'yipping' sound is probably the best way I can describe it. At first I tried to ignore it thinking that the lummox had got himself trapped in his flies or something, but it went on and on to the point of distraction until finally I could stand it no longer and I went to investigate what on earth was going on.
I padded down the stairs as silently as possible and stopped just before the bottom. My nose instantly alerting me to the presence of the blonde berk and his over-active tail. But there was something else abroad in the air and I couldn't quite work out what that smell was. It was similar to the berk but not quite. 'Sod it' I thought, 'I'm going in' and I nimbly leaped into the living room. Imagine my surprise when I came face-to-face with an unknown creature that I'd never seen before. At first I thought it was some kind of monster or perhaps a demon from the bowels of Hades or maybe the local zoo was missing something. It was brown and furry and had ears like an elephant despite being quite small in stature. I wasn't going to take any chances though and I turned and scampered back upstairs.
Since then, I have discovered that this unknown thing is, in fact, a spaniel puppy. A yipping, biting, cavorting spaniel puppy that belongs to Erin, of all people. Huh! I'm surprised at her, bringing that beast into my house. It's bad enough having one dog about the place without a puppy tearing around like a whirling Dervish. Honestly, you'd think people would have more respect for me than that. I mean, I wouldn't mind so much but it evacuates itself on the floor and that's plain unhygienic, especially in areas where my food is prepared. As you can guess, I'm not best pleased and Ange and blubberboy had best watch their step after allowing this to happen.
Stay tuned for further developments.
PPP x
I padded down the stairs as silently as possible and stopped just before the bottom. My nose instantly alerting me to the presence of the blonde berk and his over-active tail. But there was something else abroad in the air and I couldn't quite work out what that smell was. It was similar to the berk but not quite. 'Sod it' I thought, 'I'm going in' and I nimbly leaped into the living room. Imagine my surprise when I came face-to-face with an unknown creature that I'd never seen before. At first I thought it was some kind of monster or perhaps a demon from the bowels of Hades or maybe the local zoo was missing something. It was brown and furry and had ears like an elephant despite being quite small in stature. I wasn't going to take any chances though and I turned and scampered back upstairs.
Since then, I have discovered that this unknown thing is, in fact, a spaniel puppy. A yipping, biting, cavorting spaniel puppy that belongs to Erin, of all people. Huh! I'm surprised at her, bringing that beast into my house. It's bad enough having one dog about the place without a puppy tearing around like a whirling Dervish. Honestly, you'd think people would have more respect for me than that. I mean, I wouldn't mind so much but it evacuates itself on the floor and that's plain unhygienic, especially in areas where my food is prepared. As you can guess, I'm not best pleased and Ange and blubberboy had best watch their step after allowing this to happen.
Stay tuned for further developments.
PPP x
Wednesday, 15 May 2019
Chick, Chick, Chick, Chick, Chicken!!!
You'll no doubt be alarmed, gentle reader, to learn that I have of late been a little poorly. Relieved also to know that I am now feeling much better, thank you. I'm not sure what the problem was, I've been listless, liverish and off my food. And fair play to the humans, they have tried plenty of different comestibles for me to attempt but I just wasn't eating and I actually lost a little bit of weight. Not that I needed to of course, as you can tell from my photo, but I suppose it all helps to keep me svelte. They tried tuna, salmon (fillet), ham (finest Wiltshire naturally), topside of beef and a wide and extensive variety of sachet cat food. And I turned my nose up at pretty much all of it. That's how poorly I felt. Of course, being a stoic individual I refused to visit that vet chappie though.
Then one night, the lummox decided he was going to make one of those curry things with which he stinks the whole house down with (and I'm talking about after he's eaten it) for him and Ange. Well, it turned out that he bought one too many chicken breasts and between them they managed to reach the conclusion that perhaps they should bake it for me. Well duh! Obviously! And so baked it was and once allowed to cool Ange cut it into bite sized pieces and presented it to me.
My word! I wolfed it down. Every single mouthful and licked my lips for a long while after. They both seemed very pleased with themselves and I was also a little grateful and showed this by waking Ange up at four in the morning for a stroking session. Anyway, the next day the lummox was dispatched to the local butcher shop to procure me another chicken breast which was likewise baked and presented. I gathered from their conversation though that this one was in fact what's known as free-range and corn fed. I'm not sure what all that meant but it tasted absolutely delicious and you can probably guess where I'm going with this. That's right, I now insist on all my chicken dinners to be free-range and corn fed. Apparently it's more expensive than the other sort but it tastes better, I deserve it and that's the end of the matter as far as I'm concerned.
PPP x
Then one night, the lummox decided he was going to make one of those curry things with which he stinks the whole house down with (and I'm talking about after he's eaten it) for him and Ange. Well, it turned out that he bought one too many chicken breasts and between them they managed to reach the conclusion that perhaps they should bake it for me. Well duh! Obviously! And so baked it was and once allowed to cool Ange cut it into bite sized pieces and presented it to me.
My word! I wolfed it down. Every single mouthful and licked my lips for a long while after. They both seemed very pleased with themselves and I was also a little grateful and showed this by waking Ange up at four in the morning for a stroking session. Anyway, the next day the lummox was dispatched to the local butcher shop to procure me another chicken breast which was likewise baked and presented. I gathered from their conversation though that this one was in fact what's known as free-range and corn fed. I'm not sure what all that meant but it tasted absolutely delicious and you can probably guess where I'm going with this. That's right, I now insist on all my chicken dinners to be free-range and corn fed. Apparently it's more expensive than the other sort but it tastes better, I deserve it and that's the end of the matter as far as I'm concerned.
PPP x
Monday, 6 May 2019
The Importance Of Being Pixie
Buggered off they have! Gone off for a jolly along the canal in that little toy boat of theirs and left me behind. But do you know what? Sod the pair of them. Do I care? Not one jot! They can stay out for as long as they want for all I bloody well mind. You see, I am Pixie! A determined, capable and self-caring cat. I don't need them to fuss and fret over me constantly. I'm aloof when I want to be and sociable when I want to be. It's all on my terms. And any cat worth his or her salt knows that. And it's an important thing for cats to learn, at an early age.
Besides which they've left a servant for me to cater for my mealtimes That Steve fellow who was here last October when they cleared off to Ireland. Nice enough chap although he's forever got a camera in my face (understandable) but he knows his place in the pecking order and that's what it's all about at the end of the day. He knows that I am Pixie Poo Poo - internet sensation, with a horde of devoted followers and he respects that. Plus, he is in the habit of buying me ham so that gets the old seal of approval from me.
As for those other two, well I just hope Ange can survive a week in a 9' by 6' space with Captain Flatulence constantly letting off minute-by-minute. My God, the mere thought of it is making me feel dirty to the point where I might actually have a wash. So no, I'm not bothered. I am Pixie and I'll do my own thing. And that gentle reader is important to me.
PPP x
Besides which they've left a servant for me to cater for my mealtimes That Steve fellow who was here last October when they cleared off to Ireland. Nice enough chap although he's forever got a camera in my face (understandable) but he knows his place in the pecking order and that's what it's all about at the end of the day. He knows that I am Pixie Poo Poo - internet sensation, with a horde of devoted followers and he respects that. Plus, he is in the habit of buying me ham so that gets the old seal of approval from me.
As for those other two, well I just hope Ange can survive a week in a 9' by 6' space with Captain Flatulence constantly letting off minute-by-minute. My God, the mere thought of it is making me feel dirty to the point where I might actually have a wash. So no, I'm not bothered. I am Pixie and I'll do my own thing. And that gentle reader is important to me.
PPP x
Thursday, 25 April 2019
Le Chatiere
Just a quick one.
Do you know what that means gentle reader? Chatiere? Well I'll tell you. It's French for Catflap. And yes, I've finally got one!!! Not only that, but I'm afraid this is another one of those rare occasions when the lummox has actually done something right. I know, crazy isn't it? For not only has he got off his fat arse and bought one but he's gone and bought me a Staywell Pet Safe Deluxe Catflap in a wood grain finish. The kind of catflap that I truly deserve. He also paid a craftsman to install it properly rather than him doing it himself and making a bodge job like every other attempt at DIY he's ever done. So kudos to you this time lummox. Just don't get complacent, that's all!
PPP x
Do you know what that means gentle reader? Chatiere? Well I'll tell you. It's French for Catflap. And yes, I've finally got one!!! Not only that, but I'm afraid this is another one of those rare occasions when the lummox has actually done something right. I know, crazy isn't it? For not only has he got off his fat arse and bought one but he's gone and bought me a Staywell Pet Safe Deluxe Catflap in a wood grain finish. The kind of catflap that I truly deserve. He also paid a craftsman to install it properly rather than him doing it himself and making a bodge job like every other attempt at DIY he's ever done. So kudos to you this time lummox. Just don't get complacent, that's all!
PPP x
Wednesday, 17 April 2019
No Resemblance Whatsoever (Part 2)
Hi gentle reader,
I've had quite a wide and varied response to my recent post regarding the lummox and his lineage. And it seems that a lot of you have a very similar issue. Here's a quick cross section from the old electronic mail bag.
The people I live with are kind enough and have just bought me a new scratching post. But why oh why do they insist on having a dog as well is anybodies guess. He's an arsehole! There's no logical explanation. Just like your lummox.
Mimi, Swansea
I'm catered for by a rather well to do lady who insists on buying me Kit-E-Kat. WTF!!! She can afford better than that. Damn and blast her! At least the lummox buys you good stuff.
Jerry, Kent
Hi Pixie, I'm a big fan. It seems to me that your lummox is what they call a throwback. If the human theory of evolution is to be believed then there were these folk called neanderthals that lived years ago. Maybe he's a throwback to that. Just a thought.
Moxy, John O' Groats
Well it seems to me that those good people perhaps found the lummox under a bush or something.
Daisy, Ipswich
Have you considered checking at the local zoo to see if anything is missing?
Smokey, Daventry
You're lucky, my servant smells of wee!
Blackie, West Midlands
So there you go folks. Some good suggestions there although I'm not quite sure what Blackie is trying to say here. But hey! No cat is purr-fect (although, I come close). I doubt very much, however, that I shall ever get to the bottom of this particular conundrum. But keep those emails coming.
PPP x
I've had quite a wide and varied response to my recent post regarding the lummox and his lineage. And it seems that a lot of you have a very similar issue. Here's a quick cross section from the old electronic mail bag.
The people I live with are kind enough and have just bought me a new scratching post. But why oh why do they insist on having a dog as well is anybodies guess. He's an arsehole! There's no logical explanation. Just like your lummox.
Mimi, Swansea
I'm catered for by a rather well to do lady who insists on buying me Kit-E-Kat. WTF!!! She can afford better than that. Damn and blast her! At least the lummox buys you good stuff.
Jerry, Kent
Hi Pixie, I'm a big fan. It seems to me that your lummox is what they call a throwback. If the human theory of evolution is to be believed then there were these folk called neanderthals that lived years ago. Maybe he's a throwback to that. Just a thought.
Moxy, John O' Groats
Well it seems to me that those good people perhaps found the lummox under a bush or something.
Daisy, Ipswich
Have you considered checking at the local zoo to see if anything is missing?
Smokey, Daventry
You're lucky, my servant smells of wee!
Blackie, West Midlands
So there you go folks. Some good suggestions there although I'm not quite sure what Blackie is trying to say here. But hey! No cat is purr-fect (although, I come close). I doubt very much, however, that I shall ever get to the bottom of this particular conundrum. But keep those emails coming.
PPP x
Thursday, 11 April 2019
Gym Dandy
Imagine, if you will, a hippopotamus wearing a tight pair of men's leggings, a XXXL t-shirt with some vague motif on the front and a pair of slate grey plimsolls. Please, bear with me on this. Imagine then that same hippo cavorting about the place like some prancing great behemoth attempting to get fit, lose weight and breath normally. What you have just imagined, gentle reader, is the lummox in his gym attire. Funniest thing I've seen in a long, long time. He's actually convinced himself that by investing in some moderately priced gear and enrolling himself into the local gymnasium that he's really going to do it this time. That'll be the bloody day that will. He comes home from the gym more breathless than when he went and in pain the next day to the point where he doesn't actually want to go to the gym again. It's all a pointless exercise (pardon the pun) if you ask me. 53 years of gluttony and ale isn't going to just vanish away by a handful of visits to the treadmill and rowing machine. No! He should instead look to me for inspiration. I have a healthy, varied diet and enjoy plenty of fresh air and sleep in equal measure. And look at me. Just look at me. As svelte and as sleek as I've always been. Hale and hearty as any cat you could mention. I don't need to spend a small fortune lining other peoples pockets do I? But no, he insists on dressing in that ridiculous dandy-prat garb and putting himself through the kind of torturous regime that one could have expected from the Witchfinder General and then sits there counting calories when he comes home as if he's got nothing better to do. The big ponce!
PPP x
PPP x
Friday, 5 April 2019
A Bit Of A Flap
I demand my basic feline rights!!! The right for every domestic cat to have a cat flap installed for their own personal use. And do I have one? Do I buggery! Three months we've been in this house now, three sodding months, and there's neither sight nor sound of one anywhere. Instead, I have to stand at the back door (the humans have permanently locked the front) and demand to be let out, like a dog with a bladder full of urine, and then have to suffer the indignity of waiting to be let back inside when I'm ready to return to bed. It's shameful, gentle reader, truly shameful. Do you know, they even drove to the East Midlands and back twice within the space of four days last week, and I had to stay in all the while until they got back. Its a sin, a sin I tell you, against all things feline and I'm not prepared to stand for it much longer.
So I've embarked on a campaign of pissing the two of them off. I wait in of a night time until they're yawning and getting tired and then I go and stand at the door and meow as loudly as possible so that they feel ashamed and let me out. I then disappear into the darkness and listen to them pathetically calling my name. 'Pixie, Pixie, come in now!' they call. Huh, they don't know that I'm just around the corner sniggering to myself as they stand there in their dressing gowns and slippers, wringing their hands and sounding all concerned. Balls to the pair of them. If you're that concerned then pull your fingers out and get me a bloody cat flap. Pronto!!!
PPP x
So I've embarked on a campaign of pissing the two of them off. I wait in of a night time until they're yawning and getting tired and then I go and stand at the door and meow as loudly as possible so that they feel ashamed and let me out. I then disappear into the darkness and listen to them pathetically calling my name. 'Pixie, Pixie, come in now!' they call. Huh, they don't know that I'm just around the corner sniggering to myself as they stand there in their dressing gowns and slippers, wringing their hands and sounding all concerned. Balls to the pair of them. If you're that concerned then pull your fingers out and get me a bloody cat flap. Pronto!!!
PPP x
Friday, 29 March 2019
No Resemblance Whatsoever
We've just had a four day visit from the lummox's mater. Nice enough woman; cat friendly, clean, keeps the place tidy etc. So I didn't really have any problems with her coming here. I even let her have the spare bed and I slept on the couch instead, which I'm sure you'll all agree, was very magnanimous of me. Well, she is in her eighties after all and I'm not a spiteful cat in any way, as all my previous blog posts will testify. But, something was bugging me all the time she was here and for a while I just couldn't put my paw on it. And then when she'd gone home again it hit me. How on earth could someone nice like that produce offspring like the lummox? I mean the man is an oafish boor of the highest order of oafish boors. And the other thing right, I've met his brother and sister-in-law as well and they're both smart, polite and pleasant people who aren't bristling with straggly facial hair and don't smell of B.O and farts. Well, what they do in their private lives is none of my business, but when I met them they were nice enough.
So what's the deal with the lummox? How can a decent enough family contain something like that? How can the constant cause of irritation in my life, the thorn in my side, the carbuncle on my horizon, spring forth from them? I'd like to hear your thoughts on the matter.
Email me at the usual address of treblepcat@gmail.com
I look forward to hearing from you. In the meantime, I'll continue to put up with listening to him filling the house with the sound of progressive rock and excessively loud flatus in equal measure.
PPP x
So what's the deal with the lummox? How can a decent enough family contain something like that? How can the constant cause of irritation in my life, the thorn in my side, the carbuncle on my horizon, spring forth from them? I'd like to hear your thoughts on the matter.
Email me at the usual address of treblepcat@gmail.com
I look forward to hearing from you. In the meantime, I'll continue to put up with listening to him filling the house with the sound of progressive rock and excessively loud flatus in equal measure.
PPP x
Sunday, 24 March 2019
The Mauling Of A Lifetime
You know that feeling you get when you just want to be left in peace to shed some fur at the top of the stairs carpet? Rolling and writhing around trying to tame the old winter pelt. Well, I had just that feeling this afternoon. I heard Ange and SFB (shit for brains) saying that they were going to visit that Becky person and I thought 'Great, I'll have the place to myself.' So I made myself comfy at the top of the stairs and began a bit of unwanted fur removal, as you do. And I was just beginning to enjoy myself as well as they were getting ready to bugger off when upstairs comes the lummox. I imagined he perhaps wanted to mask his body stench with that Lynx crap, that he sprays about all over the top floor, and so I moved to the side to let him past. All well and good, I hear you say. Well no...
He decided to choose that precise moment to start acting like a gibbering idiot; drooling and dribbling all manner of childish coochie coo-isms in my direction and generally making a prize winning berk of himself at a time when I was neither prepared nor even bothered to reciprocate. I did what any self-respecting cat would have done in the same circumstance. I tore him to f***ing shreds. I went for his gurning, great mug first but I'm ashamed to say I missed it, which is incredible really when you consider the size of the target area. However, the next nearest thing was his right hand and it was upon that which I seized. I gave him the works, gentle reader, I gave him the full bloody works. Teeth, claws, the lot. Ooh, I didn't half set about him.
And, I'm pleased to report, there was blood. Lots of it too. Followed by a copious amount of swearing and screaming from the lummox. Screamed like a little girl that's just had her pigtails pulled he did. As for me, I went and got under the bed and stayed there until they both sodded off. I believe he had to run it under the cold water tap for some length of time and there was talk of antiseptic creams and potential hospital treatment involving needles of some descrip. Whatever! The fact is, he'll know better next time. Won't he?
PPP x
He decided to choose that precise moment to start acting like a gibbering idiot; drooling and dribbling all manner of childish coochie coo-isms in my direction and generally making a prize winning berk of himself at a time when I was neither prepared nor even bothered to reciprocate. I did what any self-respecting cat would have done in the same circumstance. I tore him to f***ing shreds. I went for his gurning, great mug first but I'm ashamed to say I missed it, which is incredible really when you consider the size of the target area. However, the next nearest thing was his right hand and it was upon that which I seized. I gave him the works, gentle reader, I gave him the full bloody works. Teeth, claws, the lot. Ooh, I didn't half set about him.
And, I'm pleased to report, there was blood. Lots of it too. Followed by a copious amount of swearing and screaming from the lummox. Screamed like a little girl that's just had her pigtails pulled he did. As for me, I went and got under the bed and stayed there until they both sodded off. I believe he had to run it under the cold water tap for some length of time and there was talk of antiseptic creams and potential hospital treatment involving needles of some descrip. Whatever! The fact is, he'll know better next time. Won't he?
PPP x
Thursday, 14 March 2019
House v Boat
Hello again gentle reader,
Well, despite the few grumbles from the more narrow minded of you I have to say that I've been overwhelmed by the outpouring of relief that I have received from so many of you regarding my return to blogging. Here's a brief selection of them.
Pixie!!! You're back. Life is purr-fect once more
Beano, Chester
Thank you, thank you, thank you Pix. It's like all our Christmases have come all at once.
Pepe, Darlington
I had begun to lose the will to live Pixie but now that you're back I feel like a new cat. Joy!!!
Oliver, Prestwich
So there you have it. Proof certain of just how much The Pixie Report has been missed.
Now, about this house business. Well, I've been here for a few months and I do quite like it, but how does it compare to my boat? Lets look at the pros and cons of both shall we, and then see how it all stacks up. We'll start with the house:
Pro
Central heating. Keeps me nice and cosy.
Con
Gets too warm for fat lad and he starts opening windows thus letting cold air in.
Pro
Soft carpets under my feet.
Con
Can be prone to snagging claws on it.
Pro
A flushing lavatory, the humans don't have to have what's basically a bucket full of shite hanging around the place anymore.
Con
Can't actually think of one except maybe the odour after the lummox has been in.
Pro
Stairs. Good for exercise.
Con
Just can't be arsed with them sometimes, like after a big meal.
Ok, that;s the main features of the house and it's kind of looking good. But now let's take a look at my boat in the same way:
Pro
Log burner for me to lie in front of.
Con
Lummox makes a right bleeding mess with it.
Pro
Hot metal roof for me to sunbathe on in the summer.
Con
Not so much fun in winter
Pro
All on one level, pretty much.
Con
There's only the one bedroom to get out of the way to when that f***ing dog visits.
Pro
It's mine
Con
Very few people actually seem to respect that fact.
Hmmm... that's all very compelling evidence for both. So I'm going to call it a draw. 50/50. Honours even. A tie. Six of one and half... oh for God's sake, you know what I mean. For now though the house is it. Its warm and comfortable and I'm having haddock for tea tonight. Well, I'd better bloody well be having it or there will serious trouble. I've already had to shred the lummox's hand this morning. When is he going to realise, I'll have a tummy tickle when I'm ready. Berk! Anyway, I'm doing grand for now and there'll be another installment of The Pixie Report very soon.
PPP x
Well, despite the few grumbles from the more narrow minded of you I have to say that I've been overwhelmed by the outpouring of relief that I have received from so many of you regarding my return to blogging. Here's a brief selection of them.
Pixie!!! You're back. Life is purr-fect once more
Beano, Chester
Thank you, thank you, thank you Pix. It's like all our Christmases have come all at once.
Pepe, Darlington
I had begun to lose the will to live Pixie but now that you're back I feel like a new cat. Joy!!!
Oliver, Prestwich
So there you have it. Proof certain of just how much The Pixie Report has been missed.
Now, about this house business. Well, I've been here for a few months and I do quite like it, but how does it compare to my boat? Lets look at the pros and cons of both shall we, and then see how it all stacks up. We'll start with the house:
Pro
Central heating. Keeps me nice and cosy.
Con
Gets too warm for fat lad and he starts opening windows thus letting cold air in.
Pro
Soft carpets under my feet.
Con
Can be prone to snagging claws on it.
Pro
A flushing lavatory, the humans don't have to have what's basically a bucket full of shite hanging around the place anymore.
Con
Can't actually think of one except maybe the odour after the lummox has been in.
Pro
Stairs. Good for exercise.
Con
Just can't be arsed with them sometimes, like after a big meal.
Ok, that;s the main features of the house and it's kind of looking good. But now let's take a look at my boat in the same way:
Pro
Log burner for me to lie in front of.
Con
Lummox makes a right bleeding mess with it.
Pro
Hot metal roof for me to sunbathe on in the summer.
Con
Not so much fun in winter
Pro
All on one level, pretty much.
Con
There's only the one bedroom to get out of the way to when that f***ing dog visits.
Pro
It's mine
Con
Very few people actually seem to respect that fact.
Hmmm... that's all very compelling evidence for both. So I'm going to call it a draw. 50/50. Honours even. A tie. Six of one and half... oh for God's sake, you know what I mean. For now though the house is it. Its warm and comfortable and I'm having haddock for tea tonight. Well, I'd better bloody well be having it or there will serious trouble. I've already had to shred the lummox's hand this morning. When is he going to realise, I'll have a tummy tickle when I'm ready. Berk! Anyway, I'm doing grand for now and there'll be another installment of The Pixie Report very soon.
PPP x
Wednesday, 27 February 2019
Back To Business After A Bit Of A Lay Off
Hi gentle reader
I took a bit of a sabbatical there for a while. Well, eighteen months to be precise but who's counting? You know how it is: you go for a nap, chase a few mice here and there, catch the odd bird, scratch the furniture, take some more naps and before you know it you're just too busy to blog. Some of the more unkind among you have dared to suggest that I simply couldn't be arsed anymore. Yes, really! I received the following emails and quite frankly am shocked and hurt by their content. See for yourself:
Hey! Pixie! It's been a long time with nothing happening here. Get your tail in gear and give us something new or are you just not bothered anymore?
Ralphy, Aberdeen
I've waited and waited but nothing for ages. What are you doing cat? Annoyed!!!!!!
Ginger, Banbury
What are you f*****g playing at Pix? Sort yourself out!
Lollipop, Otley
See! But my personal advice to Ralphy, Ginger, Lollipop and anyone else who wants to criticise me is go and shove it up your pencil sharpener as far as it will go and don't sully my inbox with your cheap diatribes ever again.
I'm back gentle reader and you and my many legions of fans (statistics speak for themselves) will no doubt be salivating to hear what I've been up to since last time. Well, there is much to tell. Ok, so only three really major things have happened. I'll deal with them in chronological order.
1) The lummox bought another boat. F*** me purple, you want to see the bloody thing. I've seen bigger boats in bathtubs. It looks like a narrowboat has been put on boil wash and shrunk. It's titchy. How on earth he supposes that he's ever going to manage in such a small space as that is beyond me. He's damn near as wide as the bloody boat. You want to see the thing when he steps on board. More of a lurch than the Addams Family!!! He'll be in the canal one day, I know he will. That boat is only about five ton in weight. It's not built for men of his immense girth. And as for the colour scheme... well... 50 shades of vomit is possibly the best way to describe it. And it's called Pipit! What kind of bile inducing name is that?
Apparently his reason for the purchase was to provide Ange with a business opportunity. It seems she would like to open some kind of floating, boat shop. I've heard talk of bric-a-brac being sold on it and one can only imagine the kind of tawdry tat that they'll be peddling on there. But that's not the worst of it gentle reader. No! They're also going to sell bloody dog treats. To dog owners! On the towpath! In broad daylight! Shame on them! Dogs don't need treating, they need to shut the hell up from all that barking. Mind you, they're going to be selling tennis balls to them as well so that should help with that. In addition, they're going to be flogging bags of duck food although to be honest I couldn't care tuppence about that either way. Anyway, good luck to them, I certainly won't be getting involved and without my weight behind it then the whole project is bound to collapse.
2) Get your lugholes around this one. Ange and the lummox got married. I kid you not. Last October. I'm not sure how he proposed but I can't imagine him getting down on one knee and then getting back up again in a hurry. At least, not without screaming. And she actually accepted!!! I mean, I've always questioned her eyesight and sense of smell weren't up to much but this is going too far surely. But no, wedded they are. And my God the whole place was inundated with people. Kids everywhere and people coming and going in and out of my boat. Naturally, of course, they all wanted to catch a glimpse of yours truly with the hope of getting their sticky mitts on my soft, desirable fur. So I did what any cat worth their salt would do and buggered off out for the day. It was sunny and warm so I just found somewhere quiet to soak up some rays and get away from it all. I understand that from their perspective the whole day went extremely well but whether they're married or not I couldn't care one single purr. Just so long as I'm kept in the manner I'm accustomed to. And surely to Christ they don't need a certificate for that!
They honeymooned in Ireland. Ange has relatives there so typically for the lummox they did it on the cheap (ham-fisted to the last). But what about Pixie Poo Poo? I hear you ask. Well, I was left in the company of Ange's brother. Stefan or Stavros or something. I never was great with names. Anyway, he stayed on my boat with me and made sure I was fed and kept warm. And I'll say this much for him, he knows how to present a haddock. After all, the first bite is with the eye and he clearly understands this. Not like the lummox who scrapes the batter off like he's trying to remove woodchip off a wall and then dumps the fish unceremoniously in the bowl with his sausage-like fingers. But not this guy, he made it a pleasure to eat. He even videoed me eating it. Can't blame him really can you? I've never seen a man take so many photographs and videos. He's even got one of those new-fangled flying things but I won't ''drone'' on about it (see what I did there!). Anyway, to cut a long story mercifully short my servants are now married.
3) We've sodding well moved again!!! I'm back on dry land gentle reader. Only this time it's not a glorified tin can on wheels, it's an actual, real, bonafide house! With carpets and central heating and everything! Now, yet again, I wasn't consulted on this and was once more spirited away thanks to the rough man-handling of that Becky Cardwell (By God, she walks a tightrope does that one). But you know what, despite being initially incensed by this, I'm now rather enjoying myself. The place is warm and cosy, doesn't smell of diesel and woodsmoke and those carpets make for some great scratching and clawing. I haven't seen any mice yet which is a bit of a shame but there is a dirty great white and black tomcat next door who will have to be put in his place. I haven't done it yet but I'll get round to it.
We've been here just over a month now and seeing as the lummox has done something useful for once and had wifi installed I thought it the purr-fect time to get back to the old Pixie Report. I'm sorry if my absence has caused distress to any of you as I know so many of you find comfort and enjoyment in my little blog. All I can say is, I'm back again! Let's see how long it lasts.
PPP x
I took a bit of a sabbatical there for a while. Well, eighteen months to be precise but who's counting? You know how it is: you go for a nap, chase a few mice here and there, catch the odd bird, scratch the furniture, take some more naps and before you know it you're just too busy to blog. Some of the more unkind among you have dared to suggest that I simply couldn't be arsed anymore. Yes, really! I received the following emails and quite frankly am shocked and hurt by their content. See for yourself:
Hey! Pixie! It's been a long time with nothing happening here. Get your tail in gear and give us something new or are you just not bothered anymore?
Ralphy, Aberdeen
I've waited and waited but nothing for ages. What are you doing cat? Annoyed!!!!!!
Ginger, Banbury
What are you f*****g playing at Pix? Sort yourself out!
Lollipop, Otley
See! But my personal advice to Ralphy, Ginger, Lollipop and anyone else who wants to criticise me is go and shove it up your pencil sharpener as far as it will go and don't sully my inbox with your cheap diatribes ever again.
I'm back gentle reader and you and my many legions of fans (statistics speak for themselves) will no doubt be salivating to hear what I've been up to since last time. Well, there is much to tell. Ok, so only three really major things have happened. I'll deal with them in chronological order.
1) The lummox bought another boat. F*** me purple, you want to see the bloody thing. I've seen bigger boats in bathtubs. It looks like a narrowboat has been put on boil wash and shrunk. It's titchy. How on earth he supposes that he's ever going to manage in such a small space as that is beyond me. He's damn near as wide as the bloody boat. You want to see the thing when he steps on board. More of a lurch than the Addams Family!!! He'll be in the canal one day, I know he will. That boat is only about five ton in weight. It's not built for men of his immense girth. And as for the colour scheme... well... 50 shades of vomit is possibly the best way to describe it. And it's called Pipit! What kind of bile inducing name is that?
Apparently his reason for the purchase was to provide Ange with a business opportunity. It seems she would like to open some kind of floating, boat shop. I've heard talk of bric-a-brac being sold on it and one can only imagine the kind of tawdry tat that they'll be peddling on there. But that's not the worst of it gentle reader. No! They're also going to sell bloody dog treats. To dog owners! On the towpath! In broad daylight! Shame on them! Dogs don't need treating, they need to shut the hell up from all that barking. Mind you, they're going to be selling tennis balls to them as well so that should help with that. In addition, they're going to be flogging bags of duck food although to be honest I couldn't care tuppence about that either way. Anyway, good luck to them, I certainly won't be getting involved and without my weight behind it then the whole project is bound to collapse.
2) Get your lugholes around this one. Ange and the lummox got married. I kid you not. Last October. I'm not sure how he proposed but I can't imagine him getting down on one knee and then getting back up again in a hurry. At least, not without screaming. And she actually accepted!!! I mean, I've always questioned her eyesight and sense of smell weren't up to much but this is going too far surely. But no, wedded they are. And my God the whole place was inundated with people. Kids everywhere and people coming and going in and out of my boat. Naturally, of course, they all wanted to catch a glimpse of yours truly with the hope of getting their sticky mitts on my soft, desirable fur. So I did what any cat worth their salt would do and buggered off out for the day. It was sunny and warm so I just found somewhere quiet to soak up some rays and get away from it all. I understand that from their perspective the whole day went extremely well but whether they're married or not I couldn't care one single purr. Just so long as I'm kept in the manner I'm accustomed to. And surely to Christ they don't need a certificate for that!
They honeymooned in Ireland. Ange has relatives there so typically for the lummox they did it on the cheap (ham-fisted to the last). But what about Pixie Poo Poo? I hear you ask. Well, I was left in the company of Ange's brother. Stefan or Stavros or something. I never was great with names. Anyway, he stayed on my boat with me and made sure I was fed and kept warm. And I'll say this much for him, he knows how to present a haddock. After all, the first bite is with the eye and he clearly understands this. Not like the lummox who scrapes the batter off like he's trying to remove woodchip off a wall and then dumps the fish unceremoniously in the bowl with his sausage-like fingers. But not this guy, he made it a pleasure to eat. He even videoed me eating it. Can't blame him really can you? I've never seen a man take so many photographs and videos. He's even got one of those new-fangled flying things but I won't ''drone'' on about it (see what I did there!). Anyway, to cut a long story mercifully short my servants are now married.
3) We've sodding well moved again!!! I'm back on dry land gentle reader. Only this time it's not a glorified tin can on wheels, it's an actual, real, bonafide house! With carpets and central heating and everything! Now, yet again, I wasn't consulted on this and was once more spirited away thanks to the rough man-handling of that Becky Cardwell (By God, she walks a tightrope does that one). But you know what, despite being initially incensed by this, I'm now rather enjoying myself. The place is warm and cosy, doesn't smell of diesel and woodsmoke and those carpets make for some great scratching and clawing. I haven't seen any mice yet which is a bit of a shame but there is a dirty great white and black tomcat next door who will have to be put in his place. I haven't done it yet but I'll get round to it.
We've been here just over a month now and seeing as the lummox has done something useful for once and had wifi installed I thought it the purr-fect time to get back to the old Pixie Report. I'm sorry if my absence has caused distress to any of you as I know so many of you find comfort and enjoyment in my little blog. All I can say is, I'm back again! Let's see how long it lasts.
PPP x
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