A Slim Chance

The lummox is going on a diet and cutting down on the booze. Hold on a minute while I have a bloody good laugh...

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, HAH!

...that's better.

I mean, honestly, can you see old dribbling porky loins losing weight and getting healthy? No, neither can I. Apparently he feels goaded into action due to a recent visit to the doctor. He has high blood pressure and is generally in a poor physical condition. He's probably plagued with cholesterol as well which I'm sure will be revealed by the blood test he's due to have. Well, you can't say I haven't warned you all about this. What with the man being such a fat and sedentary article it was bound to happen wasn't it?

So now he's out buying salad and vegetables and vowing to rid himself of fried food, pasties, dairy products and ale. Huh! I'll believe that when I see it. I just can't imagine him going for more than a few days without swilling Irish stout down his gluttonous throat like it's going out of fashion. And it's only a brief matter of time before he's gorging himself on food that is taken away from it's place of preparation and eaten at home. Lose wait!?! A slim chance indeed!

PPP x

A Question Of Age - Part 2

Well, what a response I've had to this subject - when is a cat a senior?. And many thanks to all who emailed me with their thoughts on the matter. Here's a brief selection from the old electronic mail bag:

"I'm with you on this one Pixie. Keep up the good work"

Pickles, Norwich

"There's no such thing as senior cats. We're all in purr-fect condition"

Cupcake, Croydon

"You're right as usual Pix. Power to your paw!"

Tabby, Weston-Super-Mare

"As a cat of some 18 years I would class myself as senior but only in a way that means I'm a very wise cat. I can still put the mice in their place and claw the furniture to shreds when the mood takes me."

Smokey, Kettering

"Up yours humans!"

Sooky, Chepstow

"Who cares what humans think? We run this world. They're just glorified servants."

Fluffykins, Merthyr Tydfil

"I'd like to think that I'll reach a ripe old age and still put away the odd tin of tuna."

Rolo, Portsmouth

"You're only as old as the cat that you feel." 

Poshpaws, Bodmin

"Human beings can shove it up their arses as far as I'm concerned!!! Love the blog by the way."

Snuggles, Mansfield

Wow, seems that I've really stirred up a real hornets nest with this one. Take my advice, don't give the humans the satisfaction of thinking you're senior. We know what we are. We are cats and proud of it. Once again many, many thanks to all who emailed me. Your support and enthusiasm for The Pixie Report is gratefully received. Thank you.

PPP x

A Question Of Age

I have been affronted gentle reader. Yet again the humans have sought to upset me and injure my pride. How? I hear you ask. Simple! They've started buying me "senior" cat food. Senior!!! Me!!! I couldn't believe it, I really couldn't.

For a short while now I have been playing the old 'turn my nose up' game at the food I've been laughingly presented with. Some of it absolute tosh I have to say. Co-op shite and Aldi muck! Nuts to that, I want, demand and deserve the finer things in life. So the lummox was duly dispatched to Asda to see what else he could rustle up. Surely, I thought, surely even he can get it right from such a wide and varied selection. Well, he turned up with Gourmet Mon Petit (which I do actually like) and some Go-Cat biscuits (which are also quite choice) but then he blew it by pulling a packet of senior cat food out of his tatty little shopping bag. I stared at him for a few moments believing it to be some kind of practical joke and thinking that he would then produce a tin of salmon or some honey roast ham but no. The fat lout then opened the bloody senior stuff and put it in my bowl. Now, in all honesty I have to say that it actually smelled really nice and I was tempted enough to try it. And it was good, I did quite enjoy it despite the obvious insult towards me of suggesting that I am a senior cat.

Senior! I ask you! Bloody senior. I'm not a senior. I'm in the prime of my life. I have the figure and athleticism of a cat half my age. Why, you should see me leaping onto the roof of my boat and sprinting along my mooring like a cheetah. I mean, for crying out loud I'm only 10 (well, next month) and that's hardly any age for a cat these days. However, according to the packet of this food that he bought senior counts as 7+. Ee gad, that's barely out of kittenhood! 7+! Bloody hell! I was just getting my wind up at 7. And now that makes us all seniors!?! What an affront to all cats everywhere who are at that age. Humans really don't know bugger all do they? What berk decided that age 7 was when cats become senior? What twat sat and worked out that it's all downhill from there for us pussies? It's a disgrace, gentle reader, nothing short of a disgrace and I think it's time something was done to rectify this farcical fallacy.

However, it does beg the question - at what age are cats senior? I'd like to hear your furry thoughts on the matter and you can do so by emailing me at treblepcat@gmail.com or by using the comments form below. Maybe then we can stick it to the humans and get some well earned respect around here.

PPP x

Bank Holiday Blues

Boo! Yah, boo and sucks to it! My bank holiday weekend has been thoroughly ruined by humans and the dog. Wrecked! Destroyed! All my plans out of the window! Still, it could've been worse. I'll explain...

Ever since Friday we've had Becky, Erin and the dog here. Literally for the whole weekend. And of course you know what that means don't you? Debauchery and barking in equal measure. I've had to hide myself away from that hairy, beige moron as he gets on my tits so much and the humans have been making such a mess and a cacophony working on my boat that it's been near impossible for me to get anything resembling peace and quiet. But, like I say it could have been a lot worse. The buggers where planning to go cruising. Cruising!!! Without my express permission! But I had the last laugh oh gentle reader. I had the last laugh indeed. There they were buying in supplies and taking the wheelhouse down and getting diesel and making all sorts of preparations for a jolly but then the engine overheated and all of a sudden they were going nowhere fast. Hah!

I thought for a while that that was it and that they would all sod off out for the day but no. They then set about doing all manner of work on my boat and turned the placed into a bloody building site. And then (get this), and then they went and painted the side of my boat purple. F*****g purple!!! I'm sorry but I don't remember inviting anybody to paint my boat purple. I was affronted. And of course whilst all this was going on the bloody dog kept up a constant flow of barking just to prove to all and sundry what a berk he is. It's been a nightmare gentle reader, an absolute nightmare. Erin did her best to placate me with soothing words but it was no good. Thank you for trying though. You are the one shining light in a sea of infuriating humans Erin.

Like I say, this went on for the whole weekend and to add insult to injury they had a barbecue on Saturday and a big meaty fry-up on Sunday which the dog managed to get in on but did I get anything? No! Sod all! It's over now though and that panting great brute has gone home. I mean the dog of course, not the lummox (sorry for any confusion there). It'll not be forgotten in a hurry let me assure you and I now plan to launch a campaign of sulking, fussy eating and night time meowing for the next few days to get back at them for putting me through all that. So there!

PPP x

PS - I thought the lummox could break wind but that Becky is something else!

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