My Mooring

We've been at the new mooring for six months now and I have to say that despite some initial reservations I had it's actually really nice. I've had no more trouble with other interloping cats and their amorous intentions and it's a very pleasant place to be now. I basically have the run of the place as you would expect and there seems to be a limitless supply of mice here. I get to jump about on everybody else's boats as well as mine and I've found one or two smashing little sun traps that the humans don't know about where I can while away a few hours to my heart's content. Sure, there's a little bit of traffic coming and going into the yard but I steer well clear of that. And of course we still get visits from the flatulent scouse hippie and the dog which gets tedious but otherwise I'm having a pretty good time of it. There are some nice people here who make a fuss of me and who seem to know what a cat likes behind the ears and the swans are placid enough. Those sods at Dowley Gap were downright aggressive! Mind you, we did have fornicating frogs all over the place a few months ago which was very off-putting. Thankfully that's all finished with. So yes, it's all good. I can say with paw on heart that I like my mooring.

My New Favourite Thing

The humans went out for the day on Friday to see the lummox's mater. Which was ace because it meant I had the boat to myself and didn't have to put up with the usual Friday night orgy of alcohol from them. And they came back with the car loaded up with all sorts of things that the lummox's mater had given them. She's quite a nice woman actually. I've met her a few times and she seems very cat-friendly. Can't understand what went wrong with him though. Anyway, one of the things they brought back was a genuine sheepskin rug. Nice, thick, full-some thing it is which for some reason Ange placed on the pouffe. I was then duly encouraged to get on and try it out. At first I meowed loudly at it and turned my back as I thought it was another crafty ploy of theirs but eventually I decided to give it a try as it looked so comfy.

And guess what? It is! It's the most wonderful thing. Soft and fluffy and great to lie on. So much so that I spend about 90% of my time on it. I sleep on it all night until Ange makes my breakfast. I then have my morning nap on it before the lummox comes home. After lunch I take my afternoon kip followed by a quick siesta before tea and then it's back onto the old sheepskin for the night again. I can't get enough of it gentle reader. It's bliss. The humans, I believe, originally planned to put their feet on it. Hah! That's gone out the window let me tell you. It's mine all mine now. Well, until I get fed up with it and move on to something else as we cats tend to do. But until then the lummox better keep his roquefort smelling plates off it.

PPP x

Over Run

Help!!! We're inundated gentle reader. There are children everywhere. Running amok on my boat. Squealing and bouncing around like mad things. I've had to put my paws over my ears to block it out. It's Ange's friend you see and her grandchildren. Kids will be kids of course, I realise that. After all, I was a kitten myself once. But it's the lummox's fault really you see. He's getting them all over-excited with his cajoling and practical jokes. I mean, how many more times is the old plastic turd going to make an appearance or the squirty ring or the fart whistle? He's like a bloody big kid himself. And of course you can imagine the effect all that has had on impressionable young children. Squealing they were. Absolutely squealing!!! And it's alright for that great ox isn't it? He just went to bed when they had gone. I was the one who had had my sleep disturbed. And to top it all off I then discover that Ange's friend (Sadie or Lulu or something, I wasn't really paying attention) doesn't actually like cats. Huh!!! You've come to the wrong place then lady! For I am a perfect example of that species. The children of course were delighted to see me and naturally enjoyed the feel of my silken fur between their fingers. Shame on you though granny!

PPP x

Lummox Day

It's the lummox's birthday today. He's 51 years old. 51 he is and you wouldn't believe it. He looks a damn sight older if you ask me. All grey and lined and dishevelled. Still, it's his special day so I won't say anything bad about him. Well, other than the fact that he's a fat, boorish oaf who makes my life a misery with his flatulence and gluttony and that I can barely tolerate more than a few minutes in his presence at a time and that he's constantly blocking up the bathroom sink with his hair and making it reek and that he wouldn't know how to properly care for a cat if his life depended on it and that he ought to think himself extremely lucky that he has Ange and I. Talk about hitting the jackpot!!! Anyway, like I said, it's his day so I won't say anything bad about him.

I've got him the same present that I got him last year and the year before that and the year before that. A big, fat nothing. Well, I thought, why not? He's worth it. Ange has bought him a book all about interpreting dreams. Huh! One can imagine what kind of dreams he has. He no doubt dreams of over-indulging himself and being an absolute get! If he had any sense at all he would dream about me and how he could better improve his standing with me. Whatever, maybe there's something in that book about cats that might spur him on to such things.

I believe that the two of them are going out this evening to eat Asian cuisine again and therefore the air in the boat will be unbreathable by morning. I suppose I'll let it go just this once as it is his birthday. I just hope they remember to open the pigeon boxes though to allow the effluvium to clear. I don't want to have to spend the whole of July 21st cleaning my fur now do I?

PPP x

Ibstock - A Poem

Ange has gone away for the night

And I'm left here with that heap of shite

She's gone to somewhere called Ibstock

And I'm left here with that pillock

She's had to go because of work

So I'm left here with that great jerk

To feed me if he doesn't forget

But probably will because he's so wet

Yes to Ibstock's where she's gone

And so I find myself put upon

To sit here with a heavy heart

To sit and listen to him fart

Whilst playing his progressive rock

And she's away in damned Ibstock

I really miss her, yes I do

I think he has just followed through

I hope that she comes back real soon

So I'm not alone with this buffoon

I want her back, I want her here

And not this bloated sack of beer

And so I wait and watch the clock

Until Ange comes back, from Ibstock

Piss Wet Through

Hah! So much for their holiday and so much for cruising. It’s pissing it down with rain and the canal water is low. So we can’t go off on a jolly. Serves them right for even thinking about it.

And the rain really is coming down gentle reader. I went out in it today as I believe that it is actually good for my fur. Of course I came in and dried myself off on the duvet afterwards as you’d expect. The main down side to the rain is that it tends to make the gunwales a bit slippery and so I have to take extra care when being out there. The bad news is that the dog came down again today, got soaked and then lay on the couch stinking the place up. And naturally he started barking at every slight little thing that went past. Other boats, people on the mooring, people on the towpath etc etc. Huh! He was piss wet through in more ways than one. Acting like a great big jessy just because he hears something. Dogs for you though you see. Their whole species is piss wet through if you ask me. They get excited at bugger all.

Anyway, the rain is going to be on for a few days so I hear and the humans are planning what they can do instead of cruising. There’s talks of days out here and there which will be great as they won’t be getting under my paws and I can do whatever I damn well please with my time.

Let it rain!

PPP x

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