No Resemblance Whatsoever (Part 2)

Hi gentle reader,

I've had quite a wide and varied response to my recent post regarding the lummox and his lineage. And it seems that a lot of you have a very similar issue. Here's a quick cross section from the old electronic mail bag.

The people I live with are kind enough and have just bought me a new scratching post. But why oh why do they insist on having a dog as well is anybodies guess. He's an arsehole! There's no logical explanation. Just like your lummox.
Mimi, Swansea

I'm catered for by a rather well to do lady who insists on buying me Kit-E-Kat. WTF!!! She can afford better than that. Damn and blast her! At least the lummox buys you good stuff.
Jerry, Kent

Hi Pixie, I'm a big fan. It seems to me that your lummox is what they call a throwback. If the human theory of evolution is to be believed then there were these folk called neanderthals that lived years ago. Maybe he's a throwback to that. Just a thought.
Moxy, John O' Groats

Well it seems to me that those good people perhaps found the lummox under a bush or something.
Daisy, Ipswich

Have you considered checking at the local zoo to see if anything is missing?
Smokey, Daventry

You're lucky, my servant smells of wee!
Blackie, West Midlands

So there you go folks. Some good suggestions there although I'm not quite sure what Blackie is trying to say here. But hey! No cat is purr-fect (although, I come close). I doubt very much, however, that I shall ever get to the bottom of this particular conundrum. But keep those emails coming.

PPP x

Gym Dandy

Imagine, if you will, a hippopotamus wearing a tight pair of men's leggings, a XXXL t-shirt with some vague motif on the front and a pair of slate grey plimsolls. Please, bear with me on this. Imagine then that same hippo cavorting about the place like some prancing great behemoth attempting to get fit, lose weight and breath normally. What you have just imagined, gentle reader, is the lummox in his gym attire. Funniest thing I've seen in a long, long time. He's actually convinced himself that by investing in some moderately priced gear and enrolling himself into the local gymnasium that he's really going to do it this time. That'll be the bloody day that will. He comes home from the gym more breathless than when he went and in pain the next day to the point where he doesn't actually want to go to the gym again. It's all a pointless exercise (pardon the pun) if you ask me. 53 years of gluttony and ale isn't going to just vanish away by a handful of visits to the treadmill and rowing machine. No! He should instead look to me for inspiration. I have a healthy, varied diet and enjoy plenty of fresh air and sleep in equal measure. And look at me. Just look at me. As svelte and as sleek as I've always been. Hale and hearty as any cat you could mention. I don't need to spend a small fortune lining other peoples pockets do I? But no, he insists on dressing in that ridiculous dandy-prat garb and putting himself through the kind of torturous regime that one could have expected from the Witchfinder General and then sits there counting calories when he comes home as if he's got nothing better to do. The big ponce!

PPP x

A Bit Of A Flap

I demand my basic feline rights!!! The right for every domestic cat to have a cat flap installed for their own personal use. And do I have one? Do I buggery! Three months we've been in this house now, three sodding months, and there's neither sight nor sound of one anywhere. Instead, I have to stand at the back door (the humans have permanently locked the front) and demand to be let out, like a dog with a bladder full of urine, and then have to suffer the indignity of waiting to be let back inside when I'm ready to return to bed. It's shameful, gentle reader, truly shameful. Do you know, they even drove to the East Midlands and back twice within the space of four days last week, and I had to stay in all the while until they got back. Its a sin, a sin I tell you, against all things feline and I'm not prepared to stand for it much longer.

So I've embarked on a campaign of pissing the two of them off. I wait in of a night time until they're yawning and getting tired and then I go and stand at the door and meow as loudly as possible so that they feel ashamed and let me out. I then disappear into the darkness and listen to them pathetically calling my name. 'Pixie, Pixie, come in now!' they call. Huh, they don't know that I'm just around the corner sniggering to myself as they stand there in their dressing gowns and slippers, wringing their hands and sounding all concerned. Balls to the pair of them. If you're that concerned then pull your fingers out and get me a bloody cat flap. Pronto!!!

PPP x

No Resemblance Whatsoever

We've just had a four day visit from the lummox's mater. Nice enough woman; cat friendly, clean, keeps the place tidy etc. So I didn't really have any problems with her coming here. I even let her have the spare bed and I slept on the couch instead, which I'm sure you'll all agree, was very magnanimous of me. Well, she is in her eighties after all and I'm not a spiteful cat in any way, as all my previous blog posts will testify. But, something was bugging me all the time she was here and for a while I just couldn't put my paw on it. And then when she'd gone home again it hit me. How on earth could someone nice like that produce offspring like the lummox? I mean the man is an oafish boor of the highest order of oafish boors. And the other thing right, I've met his brother and sister-in-law as well and they're both smart, polite and pleasant people who aren't bristling with straggly facial hair and don't smell of B.O and farts. Well, what they do in their private lives is none of my business, but when I met them they were nice enough.

So what's the deal with the lummox? How can a decent enough family contain something like that? How can the constant cause of irritation in my life, the thorn in my side, the carbuncle on my horizon, spring forth from them? I'd like to hear your thoughts on the matter.

Email me at the usual address of treblepcat@gmail.com

I look forward to hearing from you. In the meantime, I'll continue to put up with listening to him filling the house with the sound of progressive rock and excessively loud flatus in equal measure.

PPP x

The Mauling Of A Lifetime

You know that feeling you get when you just want to be left in peace to shed some fur at the top of the stairs carpet? Rolling and writhing around trying to tame the old winter pelt. Well, I had just that feeling this afternoon. I heard Ange and SFB (shit for brains) saying that they were going to visit that Becky person and I thought 'Great, I'll have the place to myself.' So I made myself comfy at the top of the stairs and began a bit of unwanted fur removal, as you do. And I was just beginning to enjoy myself as well as they were getting ready to bugger off when upstairs comes the lummox. I imagined he perhaps wanted to mask his body stench with that Lynx crap, that he sprays about all over the top floor, and so I moved to the side to let him past. All well and good, I hear you say. Well no...

He decided to choose that precise moment to start acting like a gibbering idiot; drooling and dribbling all manner of childish coochie coo-isms in my direction and generally making a prize winning berk of himself at a time when I was neither prepared nor even bothered to reciprocate. I did what any self-respecting cat would have done in the same circumstance. I tore him to f***ing shreds. I went for his gurning, great mug first but I'm ashamed to say I missed it, which is incredible really when you consider the size of the target area. However, the next nearest thing was his right hand and it was upon that which I seized. I gave him the works, gentle reader, I gave him the full bloody works. Teeth, claws, the lot. Ooh, I didn't half set about him.

And, I'm pleased to report, there was blood. Lots of it too. Followed by a copious amount of swearing and screaming from the lummox. Screamed like a little girl that's just had her pigtails pulled he did. As for me, I went and got under the bed and stayed there until they both sodded off. I believe he had to run it under the cold water tap for some length of time and there was talk of antiseptic creams and potential hospital treatment involving needles of some descrip. Whatever! The fact is, he'll know better next time. Won't he?

PPP x

House v Boat

Hello again gentle reader,

Well, despite the few grumbles from the more narrow minded of you I have to say that I've been overwhelmed by the outpouring of relief that I have received from so many of you regarding my return to blogging. Here's a brief selection of them.

Pixie!!! You're back. Life is purr-fect once more
Beano, Chester

Thank you, thank you, thank you Pix. It's like all our Christmases have come all at once.
Pepe, Darlington

I had begun to lose the will to live Pixie but now that you're back I feel like a new cat. Joy!!!
Oliver, Prestwich

So there you have it. Proof certain of just how much The Pixie Report has been missed.

Now, about this house business. Well, I've been here for a few months and I do quite like it, but how does it compare to my boat? Lets look at the pros and cons of both shall we, and then see how it all stacks up. We'll start with the house:

Pro
Central heating. Keeps me nice and cosy.

Con
Gets too warm for fat lad and he starts opening windows thus letting cold air in.

Pro
Soft carpets under my feet.

Con
Can be prone to snagging claws on it.

Pro
A flushing lavatory, the humans don't have to have what's basically a bucket full of shite hanging around the place anymore.

Con
Can't actually think of one except maybe the odour after the lummox has been in.

Pro
Stairs. Good for exercise.

Con
Just can't be arsed with them sometimes, like after a big meal.

Ok, that;s the main features of the house and it's kind of looking good. But now let's take a look at my boat in the same way:

Pro
Log burner for me to lie in front of.

Con
Lummox makes a right bleeding mess with it.

Pro
Hot metal roof for me to sunbathe on in the summer.

Con
Not so much fun in winter

Pro
All on one level, pretty much.

Con
There's only the one bedroom to get out of the way to when that f***ing dog visits.

Pro
It's mine

Con
Very few people actually seem to respect that fact.

Hmmm... that's all very compelling evidence for both. So I'm going to call it a draw. 50/50. Honours even. A tie. Six of one and half... oh for God's sake, you know what I mean. For now though the house is it. Its warm and comfortable and I'm having haddock for tea tonight. Well, I'd better bloody well be having it or there will serious trouble. I've already had to shred the lummox's hand this morning. When is he going to realise, I'll have a tummy tickle when I'm ready. Berk! Anyway, I'm doing grand for now and there'll be another installment of The Pixie Report very soon.

PPP x

Back To Business After A Bit Of A Lay Off

Hi gentle reader

I took a bit of a sabbatical there for a while. Well, eighteen months to be precise but who's counting? You know how it is: you go for a nap, chase a few mice here and there, catch the odd bird, scratch the furniture, take some more naps and before you know it you're just too busy to blog. Some of the more unkind among you have dared to suggest that I simply couldn't be arsed anymore. Yes, really! I received the following emails and quite frankly am shocked and hurt by their content. See for yourself:

Hey! Pixie! It's been a long time with nothing happening here. Get your tail in gear and give us something new or are you just not bothered anymore?

Ralphy, Aberdeen

I've waited and waited but nothing for ages. What are you doing cat? Annoyed!!!!!!

Ginger, Banbury

What are you f*****g playing at Pix? Sort yourself out!

Lollipop, Otley

See! But my personal advice to Ralphy, Ginger, Lollipop and anyone else who wants to criticise me is go and shove it up your pencil sharpener as far as it will go and don't sully my inbox with your cheap diatribes ever again.

I'm back gentle reader and you and my many legions of fans (statistics speak for themselves) will no doubt be salivating to hear what I've been up to since last time. Well, there is much to tell. Ok, so only three really major things have happened. I'll deal with them in chronological order.

1) The lummox bought another boat. F*** me purple, you want to see the bloody thing. I've seen bigger boats in bathtubs. It looks like a narrowboat has been put on boil wash and shrunk. It's titchy. How on earth he supposes that he's ever going to manage in such a small space as that is beyond me. He's damn near as wide as the bloody boat. You want to see the thing when he steps on board. More of a lurch than the Addams Family!!! He'll be in the canal one day, I know he will. That boat is only about five ton in weight. It's not built for men of his immense girth. And as for the colour scheme... well... 50 shades of vomit is possibly the best way to describe it. And it's called Pipit! What kind of bile inducing name is that?

Apparently his reason for the purchase was to provide Ange with a business opportunity. It seems she would like to open some kind of floating, boat shop. I've heard talk of bric-a-brac being sold on it and one can only imagine the kind of tawdry tat that they'll be peddling on there. But that's not the worst of it gentle reader. No! They're also going to sell bloody dog treats. To dog owners! On the towpath! In broad daylight! Shame on them! Dogs don't need treating, they need to shut the hell up from all that barking. Mind you, they're going to be selling tennis balls to them as well so that should help with that. In addition, they're going to be flogging bags of duck food although to be honest I couldn't care tuppence about that either way. Anyway, good luck to them, I certainly won't be getting involved and without my weight behind it then the whole project is bound to collapse.

2) Get your lugholes around this one. Ange and the lummox got married. I kid you not. Last October. I'm not sure how he proposed but I can't imagine him getting down on one knee and then getting back up again in a hurry. At least, not without screaming. And she actually accepted!!! I mean, I've always questioned her eyesight and sense of smell weren't up to much but this is going too far surely. But no, wedded they are. And my God the whole place was inundated with people. Kids everywhere and people coming and going in and out of my boat. Naturally, of course, they all wanted to catch a glimpse of yours truly with the hope of getting their sticky mitts on my soft, desirable fur. So I did what any cat worth their salt would do and buggered off out for the day. It was sunny and warm so I just found somewhere quiet to soak up some rays and get away from it all. I understand that from their perspective the whole day went extremely well but whether they're married or not I couldn't care one single purr. Just so long as I'm kept in the manner I'm accustomed to. And surely to Christ they don't need a certificate for that!

They honeymooned in Ireland. Ange has relatives there so typically for the lummox they did it on the cheap (ham-fisted to the last). But what about Pixie Poo Poo? I hear you ask. Well, I was left in the company of Ange's brother. Stefan or Stavros or something. I never was great with names. Anyway, he stayed on my boat with me and made sure I was fed and kept warm. And I'll say this much for him, he knows how to present a haddock. After all, the first bite is with the eye and he clearly understands this. Not like the lummox who scrapes the batter off like he's trying to remove woodchip off a wall and then dumps the fish unceremoniously in the bowl with his sausage-like fingers. But not this guy, he made it a pleasure to eat. He even videoed me eating it. Can't blame him really can you? I've never seen a man take so many photographs and videos. He's even got one of those new-fangled flying things but I won't ''drone'' on about it (see what I did there!). Anyway, to cut a long story mercifully short my servants are now married.

3) We've sodding well moved again!!! I'm back on dry land gentle reader. Only this time it's not a glorified tin can on wheels, it's an actual, real, bonafide house! With carpets and central heating and everything! Now, yet again, I wasn't consulted on this and was once more spirited away thanks to the rough man-handling of that Becky Cardwell (By God, she walks a tightrope does that one). But you know what, despite being initially incensed by this, I'm now rather enjoying myself. The place is warm and cosy, doesn't smell of diesel and woodsmoke and those carpets make for some great scratching and clawing. I haven't seen any mice yet which is a bit of a shame but there is a dirty great white and black tomcat next door who will have to be put in his place. I haven't done it yet but I'll get round to it.

We've been here just over a month now and seeing as the lummox has done something useful for once and had wifi installed I thought it the purr-fect time to get back to the old Pixie Report. I'm sorry if my absence has caused distress to any of you as I know so many of you find comfort and enjoyment in my little blog. All I can say is, I'm back again! Let's see how long it lasts.

PPP x