I've been given a Christmas gift and to say that I am underwhelmed is an understatement. The humans have presented me with a cat igloo. Basically a soft, fluff covered thing that I am expected to sleep in. I took one brief look inside and then came straight out again. A cursory glance and little more was what I gave it. This of course has left them feeling most upset and even hurt to some degree. But I can't help that now can I? I never asked for a cat igloo and I can't think why they bought it for me. After all, I've got a king sized bed all to myself so why would I need an igloo to sleep in. I bet it cost just shy of a tenner as well. That could have bought ten packets of Dreamies instead. But no, they've blown it all on an igloo!
But here's the thing gentle reader. I probably will use the igloo when I'm good and ready to. And not just to make them happy. Let's not forget who is in charge around here. It's their job to please me not the other way round. So one day, when I feel like it I shall check the igloo out and maybe even have a kip in it. If I like what I see then I shall continue to use it. If I don't like it then they may as well put it in the bin. I'm sure there are plenty of cats out there sleeping in such things and if that's your bag then all well and good but Pixie Poo Poo is currently loving the bed and that's where I'll be sleeping for the foreseeable.
Cat igloo indeed!
PPP x
Wednesday, 28 December 2016
Monday, 19 December 2016
I'm Dreaming Of A Quiet Christmas
It's coming gentle reader and fellow cats everywhere. It's fast approaching and there's nothing any of us can do about it. I refer to Christmas of course. Already the front room is festooned with gifts of all shapes and sizes and there is much talk about food and drink amongst the humans. Yes, the annual gorge fest will be here before you know it. In fact, this time next week it'll be all over so that's something to look forward to isn't it? But before then I've got to put up with watching these two getting arsewiped on sherry and port wine, filling their intestines with food until bloated like a pair of methane filled hot air balloons and then listening to them expelling that gas into the confines of the caravan until I feel that I need to wash my fur.
And of course come Christmas Eve we'll have to sit through It's A Wonderful Life, again!!! We never get to see any of the films I want to see. Why can't we watch Ben Purr or Meow, Myself and Irene or Star Paws? (see what I did there?) Oh no, we have to watch that schmaltzy old guff so that those two can get all misty eyed and gurn at each other. Well balls to all that. They can watch their bloody film. I know where I'll be - firmly tucked up in bed. In fact, that's where I'll be for the bulk of the entire festive period. Especially on Christmas day when they're all coming over to my caravan for dinner! No doubt that great berk of a hound will be here as well.
But I shouldn't complain too much. I'll have the bed to myself quickly as the humans will be up early to tear open the gifts that they spent so much time carefully wrapping. Honestly it's like watching a pair of five year olds. And why go to all that trouble covering everything in paper and sellotape just to rip it into tiny pieces again a few days later. I never have understood that one. Still, there had better be something nice in there for me or I shall give them the cold shoulder like never before. And I'll have my gift when I'm good and ready for it. Not like that time a few years ago when they tore everything open on Christmas Eve like a pair of ravenous wolves in a chicken coop and then had nothing to open in the morning. Mind you they were full of that funny looking Bailey's stuff so that's their excuse. Pfft!
So anyway, I've got me a plan and that plan is to sleep in the (darkened) bedroom until it's all over and try and get some much needed peace and quiet. And woe betide any of them if I get disturbed. I'm dreaming of a quiet Christmas and I'm bally well going to get one don't you worry.
PPP x
And of course come Christmas Eve we'll have to sit through It's A Wonderful Life, again!!! We never get to see any of the films I want to see. Why can't we watch Ben Purr or Meow, Myself and Irene or Star Paws? (see what I did there?) Oh no, we have to watch that schmaltzy old guff so that those two can get all misty eyed and gurn at each other. Well balls to all that. They can watch their bloody film. I know where I'll be - firmly tucked up in bed. In fact, that's where I'll be for the bulk of the entire festive period. Especially on Christmas day when they're all coming over to my caravan for dinner! No doubt that great berk of a hound will be here as well.
But I shouldn't complain too much. I'll have the bed to myself quickly as the humans will be up early to tear open the gifts that they spent so much time carefully wrapping. Honestly it's like watching a pair of five year olds. And why go to all that trouble covering everything in paper and sellotape just to rip it into tiny pieces again a few days later. I never have understood that one. Still, there had better be something nice in there for me or I shall give them the cold shoulder like never before. And I'll have my gift when I'm good and ready for it. Not like that time a few years ago when they tore everything open on Christmas Eve like a pair of ravenous wolves in a chicken coop and then had nothing to open in the morning. Mind you they were full of that funny looking Bailey's stuff so that's their excuse. Pfft!
So anyway, I've got me a plan and that plan is to sleep in the (darkened) bedroom until it's all over and try and get some much needed peace and quiet. And woe betide any of them if I get disturbed. I'm dreaming of a quiet Christmas and I'm bally well going to get one don't you worry.
PPP x
Monday, 12 December 2016
Bladdered!
That scouse hippie came over at the weekend. Randy or Roddy or whatever his name is. Anyway, he arrived with a supply of strong drink for the humans to consume. This only added to the strong drink that Ange and the lummox had already purchased. To put it bluntly they weren't short of the stuff. Naturally they then spent Saturday night pouring it down their necks until they were all thoroughly inebriated. The lummox was virtually insensible by the end of the night and it was frankly atrocious and embarrassing to see. And Ange ought to know better than that too. She should remain vigilant to my needs at all times. How can she feed me when she's off her head on plonk? I blame the hippie. He turns up out of the blue and before you know it my servants are arseholed. Unacceptable or what?
As you would expect they were all subdued and fragile the next day. The pair of them didn't get out of the bed until half ten which, as you know, isn't allowed. And the hippie lay on the couch until then, snoring at both ends. Honestly it was hard to tell which end was making the most noise. And then they cooked and ate sausages like a bunch of gannets and didn't save any for me. I was pretty disgusted at their gluttonous greed let me tell you. Later in the day the hippie attempted to stroke me, obviously in a vain attempt to curry my favour. It didn't work and I did my level best to ignore them all until he had gone home. I took pity on Ange about 7pm and made a big fuss of her because she had made a bit more of an effort to keep me in the manner to which I am accustomed but I gave the lummox the cold shoulder as all he had done all day was to sit on his vast arse and drink coffee. Worse than useless at times that one is.
They both then decided that they needed an early night. And I let them gentle reader. I let them sleep some more. What a caring and magnificent cat I am. They'll probably do it all again at some point over Christmas and then spend the next day feeling sorry for themselves once more. Well I won't feel sorry for them. I shall treat their behaviour with the contempt it deserves until such times they are in a fit state to care for me properly.
PPP x
As you would expect they were all subdued and fragile the next day. The pair of them didn't get out of the bed until half ten which, as you know, isn't allowed. And the hippie lay on the couch until then, snoring at both ends. Honestly it was hard to tell which end was making the most noise. And then they cooked and ate sausages like a bunch of gannets and didn't save any for me. I was pretty disgusted at their gluttonous greed let me tell you. Later in the day the hippie attempted to stroke me, obviously in a vain attempt to curry my favour. It didn't work and I did my level best to ignore them all until he had gone home. I took pity on Ange about 7pm and made a big fuss of her because she had made a bit more of an effort to keep me in the manner to which I am accustomed but I gave the lummox the cold shoulder as all he had done all day was to sit on his vast arse and drink coffee. Worse than useless at times that one is.
They both then decided that they needed an early night. And I let them gentle reader. I let them sleep some more. What a caring and magnificent cat I am. They'll probably do it all again at some point over Christmas and then spend the next day feeling sorry for themselves once more. Well I won't feel sorry for them. I shall treat their behaviour with the contempt it deserves until such times they are in a fit state to care for me properly.
PPP x
Monday, 5 December 2016
He's Back
The lummox has returned from his exile. And do you know what, I hate to say it but I have kind of missed him. Not his odour or his breath or his gluttony or his farts or his feet or the way he lumbers around the place like Bigfoot with gout. No, I haven't missed any of that gentle reader but I have missed the fact that he wasn't there to feed me in the middle of the day. Ange has been at work of course and puts food out for me (as she should) but sometimes I want more than that during the day and that's where lummoxy comes in.
You see, despite being a malodorous, great berk he is quite liberal and open handed with the refrigerator. All I have to do is give him a right good meowing and hover around next to the fridge with my tail rampant and he soon comes running to open it and feed me any of the choice comestibles that are in there. Therefore, without him there hasn't been any mid-afternoon ham or sliced chicken and that is what I've missed.
He's back now though so snacks can recommence. Although I will say that in addition he has soon lapsed into his old ways - scratching his arse and shuffling about the place getting under my paws. Last week I slept under the quilt with Ange on the lummox's side of the bed, well, the huge depression that he's made in the mattress at any rate. And it was lovely. I was cosy and warm, she smells nice and it meant she didn't have to disturb me in the morning. So it's a case of weighing things up in the end. Was it a good thing or a bad thing that he's been away. A bit of both I think.
PPP x
You see, despite being a malodorous, great berk he is quite liberal and open handed with the refrigerator. All I have to do is give him a right good meowing and hover around next to the fridge with my tail rampant and he soon comes running to open it and feed me any of the choice comestibles that are in there. Therefore, without him there hasn't been any mid-afternoon ham or sliced chicken and that is what I've missed.
He's back now though so snacks can recommence. Although I will say that in addition he has soon lapsed into his old ways - scratching his arse and shuffling about the place getting under my paws. Last week I slept under the quilt with Ange on the lummox's side of the bed, well, the huge depression that he's made in the mattress at any rate. And it was lovely. I was cosy and warm, she smells nice and it meant she didn't have to disturb me in the morning. So it's a case of weighing things up in the end. Was it a good thing or a bad thing that he's been away. A bit of both I think.
PPP x
Monday, 28 November 2016
Bliss!
Oh it’s sheer bliss gentle reader. Absolute bliss. The
lummox is going to be away for a whole week, maybe even longer. They’ve started
bringing my boat back up the river to where there are new moorings at
Shipley. I shall of course be ruling the place in no time at all. But before
then there’s the small matter of them fetching the boat. Last weekend they
managed to get it a paltry twenty miles as far as Castleford. That’s still a
long way from Shipley so guess what? The lummox has had to stay with the boat to
look after it for me. Oh joy, oh bliss.
That means that we won’t have him arsing about the place
belching, farting, snoring and making the air in the bathroom unbreatheable.
The caravan will sound and smell a lot better in his absence that’s for sure.
Also it means that I’ll get Ange all to myself and can get as much fuss off her
as I like without having his dirty great mitts pawing at me like a gorilla with
a pineapple. It’s going to be great. I’ll have more of the bed at night and can
burrow my way under the covers to cosy up to Ange without being deafened by his
constant grunts and noisy inhalations.
I suppose I ought to be grateful to him in a way. I mean, he
is looking after my boat for me but also for the wonderful opportunity
to have a great week without him being here. So cheers lummox. See you
whenever!
PPP x
Tuesday, 22 November 2016
Naughty But Nice
The humans keep calling me naughty and I don't know how much longer I can stand for it. I really don't know who the hell they think they're talking to! To have the bare faced temerity to call me naughty in my own caravan is a bit much. They tell me I'm naughty for all sorts of reasons. I stay in bed too long in their eyes ergo I'm naughty. I won't eat some of the utter shash they try to pass off as food so I'm naughty. I claw their hands when they tickle my tummy therefore I'm naughty. And so on and so forth. I can't put a paw out of place these days without being called naughty.
On Monday the lummox had another job interview and spent Sunday afternoon preparing for it. He wrote some notes down and kept revising them. Then before you know it I'm being called naughty again. And why? I'll tell you why. Because I put wet paw prints on his poxy notes which blurred some of his writing. How in God's name can I be blamed for that? The oaf left his notes on the table for one thing and they both know how much I like going on there. And it had rained heavily earlier that day and I can't be held responsible for that now can I? If my gorgeous pads get wet that's just the luck of the draw.
Besides which I don't know what he's got to complain about. His writing looks like a spider fell into a glass of rum and then staggered across the page leaving a trail of its own feces behind. My lovely paw prints actually improved the look of it. So take that lummox and shut your fat face. And that Ange, honestly you'd think she'd done something amazing by putting out a bit of cat food for me. It looked and smelled dreadful so I didn't eat it and she called me naughty. Anyone in their right mind could see that all it needed was some ham or chicken and I would have been purring like a road drill. But instead she puts some pile of garbage in my bowl and then calls me names because I refuse to soil my lips with it. What on earth is the matter with these people?
Like I say, it's my caravan and I'll behave how I want. At the moment I'm really enjoying sitting on the table and if he's so stupid as to leave things on it that he may want later then more fool him. And if she thinks I'm going to eat any old muck just to please her then she can think again. I'm not naughty at all. I'm just doing what a cat's gotta do. Actually, between you and me gentle reader, I rather enjoyed laying down tracks on his notes. Naughty, but nice. Tee hee!
PPP x
On Monday the lummox had another job interview and spent Sunday afternoon preparing for it. He wrote some notes down and kept revising them. Then before you know it I'm being called naughty again. And why? I'll tell you why. Because I put wet paw prints on his poxy notes which blurred some of his writing. How in God's name can I be blamed for that? The oaf left his notes on the table for one thing and they both know how much I like going on there. And it had rained heavily earlier that day and I can't be held responsible for that now can I? If my gorgeous pads get wet that's just the luck of the draw.
Besides which I don't know what he's got to complain about. His writing looks like a spider fell into a glass of rum and then staggered across the page leaving a trail of its own feces behind. My lovely paw prints actually improved the look of it. So take that lummox and shut your fat face. And that Ange, honestly you'd think she'd done something amazing by putting out a bit of cat food for me. It looked and smelled dreadful so I didn't eat it and she called me naughty. Anyone in their right mind could see that all it needed was some ham or chicken and I would have been purring like a road drill. But instead she puts some pile of garbage in my bowl and then calls me names because I refuse to soil my lips with it. What on earth is the matter with these people?
Like I say, it's my caravan and I'll behave how I want. At the moment I'm really enjoying sitting on the table and if he's so stupid as to leave things on it that he may want later then more fool him. And if she thinks I'm going to eat any old muck just to please her then she can think again. I'm not naughty at all. I'm just doing what a cat's gotta do. Actually, between you and me gentle reader, I rather enjoyed laying down tracks on his notes. Naughty, but nice. Tee hee!
PPP x
Tuesday, 15 November 2016
Interview Day
Oh my word! You really ought to see the lummox today. What a great, fat, balding, bearded ponce of a man he is. And what a lather he has got himself into. He's going for a job interview this afternoon and if you saw the style if the man you would rock with laughter. As I have done. He's a jabbering nervous wreck for one thing. Shuffling and shambling about the place and desperately trying to learn his lines whilst trembling like a frightened kitten with fear. One minute he's in the shower and the next he's washing his lank greasy hair in the kitchen, then brushing his teeth repeatedly. In and out of the bathroom like a man with the squitters. He doesn't know what to do with himself. And then he polishes his shoes and puts his suit on. Suit! It certainly doesn't suit him. And especially when he then went and put his hair in a ponytail. He looked like an extra from Pulp Fiction. As for that tie...
And he's gone and trimmed his beard the other day. I know I can't stand to even look at the man most of the time but I had got used to seeing his straggly, scruffy facial fungus and now he's cut it dead short so that we can see the shape of his chin which to be perfectly honest is nothing to be proud of and personally I can't wait until it all grows back. I mean, seeing him dressed like that and trying to look all smart doesn't seem natural somehow and I think I much preferred him the way he was ('Hey Aqualung!' Know what I mean?).
But at the end of the day I suppose I can be gracious towards the poor sap. He's doing it all for the right reasons. And that is to earn money to spend on me. He will go out to work and earn my keep, the way it should be. Humans work, cats sleep. You can't fault the system. With the money he earns I shall be bought salmon, chicken, beef, ham etc etc. And as many Dreamies as I can eat. So fair play to him for this one. Given me a right good laugh though.
PPP x
And he's gone and trimmed his beard the other day. I know I can't stand to even look at the man most of the time but I had got used to seeing his straggly, scruffy facial fungus and now he's cut it dead short so that we can see the shape of his chin which to be perfectly honest is nothing to be proud of and personally I can't wait until it all grows back. I mean, seeing him dressed like that and trying to look all smart doesn't seem natural somehow and I think I much preferred him the way he was ('Hey Aqualung!' Know what I mean?).
But at the end of the day I suppose I can be gracious towards the poor sap. He's doing it all for the right reasons. And that is to earn money to spend on me. He will go out to work and earn my keep, the way it should be. Humans work, cats sleep. You can't fault the system. With the money he earns I shall be bought salmon, chicken, beef, ham etc etc. And as many Dreamies as I can eat. So fair play to him for this one. Given me a right good laugh though.
PPP x
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