The new interloper They call Patch is settling again after losing his silly pal Spots on the road. He has been running in and out every 2 hours, day and night, checking we are all here and when Dad goes out to do his ‘good works’ Patch often has to be shut in the cattery office to stop him running onto the road just to find him. I am sure you would never find me being that needy. Jimi-cat has been giving Patch good licks and hunting with him in the garden, I believe, to calm him. I don’t know what the fuss is about. The humans are there at our beck and call, the Aga is warm, all is just dandy IMO. Mind you they have become a bit slow with the breakfast service. I had to go into Dad’s room this morning to demand my entitlement by ringing my 3 collar bells VERY LOUDLY to gain attention. Really! It should not be necessary. Just because he has been working silly hours does not mean my breakfast should be late!. Patch looked a bit scared when I entered his domain but something had to be DONE. The humans thought they put those bells on me for their benefit. How wrong they are. Now I use them for my own desires, summoning servants and minions was ever by bells I believe. Ask Sir John Betjeman.
I am a very educated cat, due to Mum leaving Radio 4 on frequently, thus giving me an excellent ‘education’ in the ways of humans. This week there seems to have been a lot of Theresa may this, Theresa may that and I wonder why Theresa can’t make her mind up and why anyone is bothered. Life should be simple. Pass the king prawns Boris and make sure your future negotiations keep their price affordable for my Mum.
The interloper just brought a something in and Mum set off in hot pursuit. He headed up to Dad’s room of course, where he puts all his prey, usually into his dinner bowl, he is a hoot. Dad grabbed him, Mum extracted the bird from his mouth and it sweetly passed away. Mum let me have a sniff then. My cat instincts led me to develop great excitement but it was hardly in ready-meal state and the feathers got up my nose and made me sneeze.
Mince it up for me Mum, you know my teeth can’t handle solids these days. She said it was a big twit, rare twite, twitter mate or something as she checked it on her grey box. She seemed a bit upset. Apparently there are not many of them about. There’s one fewer now. Not much meat on it anyway.
I prefer minced king prawns and cat milk myself, or a Solitaire.
Love from Tiddler x