The Vigil

I made a rookie error last night gentle reader and I could kick myself. I caught a mouse (with ease) and raced onto my boat to torment it further. I was in the mood for a good bit of mouse teasing and seeing as Ange was out for the evening I knew I could do it without her berating me. The lummox was in but that was no problem. He was sat listening to music and was therefore distracted. I took the mouse into the darkest part of the boat I could find, outside the bathroom. And there I sat for a while knocking it about and then letting it think that it was safe before savaging it again. This went on for a good few minutes but then the lummox got off the couch to change the cd and I turned away from the mouse to see what was happening. The rodent seized his chance and fled for his life, darting behind the cd case.

“Bugger!” I thought, and I was very annoyed with myself. Of course I did all I could to retrieve the beastly thing without the lummox noticing but there were some thin pieces of wood propped up against the cd case and I accidentally knocked some of them over which made quite a clatter and thus alerted the lummox. He leapt off the couch and came to see what was happening. Of course when I say leapt I mean that he shambled to his feet with considerable effort. I was still trying to curl my paw around the back of the case to try and reach the mouse and he obviously realised what was happening. He demanded to know what I was doing but I ignored him and continued to try and extract my quarry. Lummoxy fetched a torch and had a look behind the case but he couldn’t see the mouse and he switched it off again and returned to the couch. There was nothing else for it. I was going to have to sit and watch and wait for that mouse to come out.

And that’s what I did. For a good long time I held a vigil, staring at the gap where the mouse had gone in waiting for him to show his face again. But alas there was neither hide nor hair of him to be seen. And like any cat worthy of the name I kept up my vigil for many hours. Ange eventually came home and they both went to bed. But not me. Oh no, I remained at my post, despite Ange telling me yet again that I was naughty. She was wasting her breath gentle reader, wasting her breath as it fell on deaf ears. I was concentrating too much on the job in paw. Eventually, I changed tack and went into the bedroom in the small hours to try and lull the mouse into a false sense of security. And it worked! He came creeping out at about four in the morning and I heard him. I shot off the bed (waking the lummox up in the process, hee hee!) and tore into the living room and almost had him but he just managed to get under one of the armchairs a split-second before I got my claws into him.

That meant that my vigil continued, well at least for another hour until the humans got up when I thought it best to stop before Ange started on me again. Anyone would think she was some kind of mouse protection activist the way she carries on. And besides, I know the way of mice. I knew that all I had to do was wait until later in the day when those two weren’t about and so with a flick of my fine tail I went to bed for a few hours. I knew also that there was no way the mouse could get off the boat and so I would pounce on him at some point in the near future. Well, that’s my plan at any rate. It may not happen. He may well expire from the mauling I gave him but so be it. A cat’s got to do what a cat’s got to do. But I’m pleased with myself for keeping up such a vigil long into the night. Yes, rather pleased with myself.

PPP x

Doctor

Poor, knackered old sod. The lummox I mean. He really is a physical wreck. An absolute shambles of a man and a warning to all of the effects of gluttony and sedentary living. And so he’s been off to see the doctor again this afternoon. Apparently its for something called fibromyalgia. No, I haven’t got a clue what that is either but it seems to give him some jip. Watching him shuffle about the place moaning and groaning just lately has left me feeling almost sorry for the berk. Almost.

He should take after me. Healthy living is the only way forward. Why, I haven’t been to see the vet in years. Don’t need to as I am in perfect trim and as athletic as they come. I leap like a salmon onto the roof of my boat whilst the lummox grovels up onto it with his bones creaking and his reedy lips uttering all sorts of grunts and oaths. I sprint along the mooring like an Olympian whilst he hobbles along like a lame cart horse.

Take my advice my chubby servant. Lose a few pounds and get some exercise. Obviously you’re never going to be as svelte or as agile as me but at least you won’t get out of breath opening a sachet of cat food or answering the phone. Honestly, how he manages to go to work is beyond me. He comes home drenched in sweat and collapses on the couch as soon as he gets in. No wonder he needs to see the quack.

Anyway, he came waddling home with a prescription for some painkillers and advice to not over do it. Over do it??? He couldn’t over do it if his life depended on it. He’s as much use as a one-legged man at an arse kicking competition most of the time. In fact, if anything, he’s constantly under doing it. And, now, as a result he’s had to seek medical treatment. I shall have to show him the way and lead by example. After all, as much as he gets on my wick, I still need my staff to be fit and ready to serve.

Fibromyalgia be buggered!

PPP x

Treated Like Shite

I have been treated abominably gentle reader. That’s the only word for it – abominably. It’s been the bank holiday weekend and you would have thought that I should have been pampered and enjoyed some peace. But no! Here’s what happened.

Friday night, the humans bugger off and leave me. All well and good as that means that I have the boat to myself. However, that also meant that there was no-one to feed me in the morning so I had no breakfast until they rolled home in the afternoon. Great! I thought. Food at last. But there was a massive down side in the shape of that feckin’ Labrador who they had brought down with them. Barking and yelping and generally getting on my nerves again. You see, Becky and Jason had gone away for the weekend and so we had to have that pillock on the boat. They took him home about midday on the Sunday much to my relief and I expected them to return within the hour and comfort me for my distress that he had caused. But that didn’t happen. They stayed up at Becky’s and got out of their minds on red wine. Probably cheap muck as well. Chateau de Bingley. Absolutely arseholed they were by all accounts and in a state of dishevelment when they did eventually return on the Monday morning where again, I was waiting for my breakfast.

Utter shite. Complete and utter shite. That’s no way for any cat to be treated let alone Pixie Poo Poo. Oh sure, food was left out for me when they went but what the bloody hell was I supposed to do when that was all gone. And as for that sodding four legged barking machine being here again and ruining my weekend, well the least said the better. So bugger the lot of them I thought and I have remained aloof and cool towards them since. I’ve never known such contempt and it shall be long remembered, trust me on that one.

PPP x 

Mexican Standoff

You would have been proud of me today gentle reader. I stood my ground. By God I did! For a while now there’s been another cat trying to claim the mooring as his own. I don’t mean that black and white fairy that I saw off last month, he’s hasn’t dared show his face again. No, there’s this other creature skulking about. A long furred, hulking great brute of a thing. Now, as you know, I am a rather petite little cat that you wouldn’t expect to get involved in too much roughness but that’s where you’d be wrong my friends. If my brother taught me nothing else, he taught me how to stick up for myself and I certainly do.

So there I was this morning taking a stroll down the mooring when all of a sudden furry bollocks appears out of the bushes and tries to intimidate me. Huh! If he thought for one minute that Pixie Poo Poo was going to turn tail and run then he was mistaken. Despite him being twice my size I stood my ground and growled for all I was worth. He growled too and soon it became a contest to see who could growl the loudest and longest and I was in no mood to back down. But, just as I was starting to get the upper paw the lummox came bounding up the stairs and his sudden appearance startled my opponent and he ran away.

Ooh, I was cross with lummox and gave him the glaring of a lifetime. I was on the verge of winning the standoff and he spoiled it. Apparently he had heard the growling contest and had come up to see what was happening. Well, I’ve two things to say to that. 1) Mind your own business. 2) Just let cats be cats without interfering. So now I don’t know. I don’t think it’s the end of the matter and it remains to be seen if that furry thing will return. But if he does I’ll be ready for him. This mooring ain’t big enough for the both of us.

PPP x

Ange's Birthday

It’s Ange’s birthday today. I won’t reveal her age but it’s somewhere between 56 and 58, I’ll leave you to work on that one. Anyway, I’d like to wish her many happy returns. Of course, when I say that, I mean I wish that she would make many returns to the shop to get food to make me happy. Hah!

On the subject of presents I thought I would keep it simple and therefore have got her nothing. And why shouldn’t I? Every gift I’ve ever presented to either of that pair has gone unappreciated. It’s true. Mice, voles, shrews, birds, you name it, I’ve given them some lovely gifts over the years and not one of them have they kept or put on the sideboard to look at. So bugger it, I’ve got her sod all.

The lummox has bought her some presents though including a litre bottle of Irish cream liqueur. That means that the weekend will be given over to revelry and bawdy behaviour. Well stuff that, I’ll have no part in it and will remain aloft from their sozzled state. Mind you birthdays are only once a year so I’ll let it pass. It will be mine in October and you can rest assured it will be a far more dignified affair all round.

PPP x

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