The Meowing Of A Lifetime

I was magnificent in the night gentle reader. Truly magnificent. And I really gave those humans what for. Barely a wink of sleep did they get thanks to the mighty meowing I gave them and I have to say that it was thoroughly deserved. Yes, they earned every single one of the meows I gave them and I hope that they have learned a valuable lesson as a result. Here's what happened...

Becky came to stay on my boat last night. No probs with that, it's happened before. But of course, she brought Twinkletoes McGobshite the labrador with her didn't she. And as per usual he made a complete tit of himself with his barking and leaping about. Honestly, he's got about as much self control as an eighty five year old's bladder after three cups of weak tea. And so I had to contend with him acting like an absolute nerk for the whole evening. Well, after I while (a short while) I grew tired of his immaturity and went out for the evening to have a saunter about, a roll on the roof and see if there were any mice to be had, you know, cat stuff. And that was all well and good. The problems started when I went back in.

You see, I was ready for bed by this time and at the moment I'm choosing to sleep on the couch. Why? I don't know! Could it be the lummox's feet or his breath or his farts or his snoring that's keeping me off the bed or something else entirely? Maybe I just like a change of scenery from time to time when I wake up. Whatever! The point is this, when I came back in I wanted to hit the couch and get eight hours sleep in before my morning nap. Imagine then my shock and annoyance to find Becky and that blonde-haired, yapping ponce lying snoring on the couch and clearly in deep sleep. I glared at them for a few moments whilst I thought what to do. And then it came to me. It was the lummox and Ange's fault that that hulking great brute was here (the labrador I mean, not Becky) and that he was in my place. Yes, by God, their fault and they would pay for it.

So I went straight back out again and up onto the roof. I then strode purposefully to the far end of my boat to where the bedroom is. The pigeon box was wide open, I stuck my shapely head through it and meowed for all I was worth. Ange heard me first (the lummox being insensible from wine) and got out of bed to see what was the matter. I darted away from the pigeon box but continued meowing. By now the lummox was coming around with a succession of grunts and other bodily expulsions I won't go into and he too got out of bed to see what was going on. Having disturbed them both I skipped off back down the roof and away.

This was ace. I waited by the mast for ten of fifteen minutes or so for them to drift off back to sleep and then repeated what I had just done with exactly the same results. Oh, it was choice. This continued for the remainder of the night, each time getting the humans more and more distressed thinking that something must be wrong with me. Well there was! I wanted the bleeding couch!!! Several times the lummox tried to reach up and lift me in through the pigeon box like an orangutan reaching for a bunch of bananas but everytime he got close I skipped off again. Hee hee! And I kept up this performance until about seven o'clock in the morning when they finally decided to get up.

I was tired too by now but not as much as that pair because I'd had a bloody good kip in the afternoon. Ha! But then, just as I was wondering what to do next Becky came out, gently picked me up and carried me into my boat, past the brute and through to the bedroom. With no humans in it to spoil my peace I lay down, curled up and went to sleep whilst the rest of them, all thoroughly disheveled, sat and drank coffee to try and perk themselves up. But why (I hear you say), why didn't you just put up with the bedroom anyway, just for a few hours rather than miss a night's sleep just because of a dog? Well, it's the principle of the matter for one thing. It's my boat and I should be able to sleep wherever I want to. And for another thing, there's a pecking order around here and I think that giving them a night like that I have enforced my position at the top of the pile. So there!

PPP x

Holiday Time

Oh dear! It’s that time again. The humans are taking two weeks off work for a holiday and that can only mean one thing. My peace and quiet is going to be shattered for a fortnight. They’ll probably want to go off cruising with my boat and so I’ll have to endure that again. I mean it could be fun, mousing in new places and all that, but damn it I have a routine and now it’s going to be disturbed. The holiday starts today and no doubt it will be heralded by a drinking session during which the lummox will probably disgrace himself again. As usual.

I don’t know why they feel they have to take time off work but it seems to be a thing that all humans do. Us cats don’t take time off from our busy lives so why should they. I can just picture the scene over the next couple of weeks. They’ll be lying in bed all morning, lolling about on the couch all day. Coming in and out and making noise and generally ballsing up my life. The boat will be awash with alcoholic beverages of all kinds and they will more than likely fill themselves with South Asian cuisine to the point where much blowing off takes place again.

Why can’t they bugger off to the seaside or even better to Torremalinos or somewhere and give me some peace? That Becky and Erin can come down and feed me and cater for my needs. Just so long as that bloody retriever stays away I’ll be happy. But no, I’m afraid that for the next 16 days my life is going to be one of misery and frustration and all because they have to have a poxy holiday.

The sods!

PPP x

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