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