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

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

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

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