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