Tuesday, 1 December 2020

The Old Woman Decides To Exercise



The old woman looks NOTHING LIKE this and she'd better not try any of these shenanigans of me!


I am lying here on the sofa with my paws over my eyes. Why? The old woman has decided she needs to get fit.

I regularly endure these bouts of activity when the house shakes to the pounding of her feet and I have to block my ears to grunts, moans and streams of profanity.

In her quest for bodily perfection - or at least the desire not to be winched out of a bedroom window by crane when she dies - she trawls the internet for hints and inspiration in the vain hope that the way to lose weight is to eat whatever you like and never move from in front of the TV. Sadly, no such regime is forthcoming.



She has found a website called Fun and Exciting Ways To Lose Weight. She is very excited by it although I fear a lot of the suggestions are for people considerably younger than she is. She has taken a fancy to the thought of hula-hooping, something she did as a child, apparently. I'm afraid she won't be able to find one big enough to fit round her. It must be difficult to hula-hoop with something resembling a snug belt.

Other suggestions include twerking (dear God, NOOOOOO), strip aerobics (seriously?) where the idea is to learn moves similar to a striptease and get fit while doing it and belly dancing. I'm hoping she will try the sensible suggestions like swimming, cycling and walking, anything to get her out of the house. 

She's bought something that you pile fruit and veg (urgh) into to make smoothies. I wonder if you can make a smoothie out of prawns and cream?

The old man is already in her bad books. He was telling our neighbour that the old woman had already lost 50 pounds. She looked very impressed until he added, "That's what she's spent on some kitchen juicer thing." He'd better watch out or bits of him will be in it.


*     *     *     *     *     *    *
Well, I've finally done it. I have written my no-holds-barred exposé of my life. Prepare to be AMAZED, prepare to be SHOCKED, prepare to be ENTHRALLED. Left is the paperback, right is the Kindle version.


            

You can follow me on Facebook,  talk to me on Twitter, and idolise me on Instagram.





Monday, 23 November 2020

No More Little Toffees



I can't be bothered with all this lovey-dovey stuff.



The old man and old woman watched a TV programme about animal instincts last night. The programme mentioned the – ahem – instinct to reproduce. Left to their own devices male cats spray to mark their territory. They fight,  roam for miles and love a bit of howling, the louder the better. So they get the snip. 

So uncouth. Not at all like we refined female cats.

I'm happy to say that they can get the "snip" in order to stop all of the above. I have had the female equivalent so, sadly for the world, there will be no more little Toffees.

I can see the point, I suppose. On the face of it lots more little Toffees with their inevitable devastating charm and beauty sounds appealing - but I don't think I could stand the competition.

In any case, looking after kittens sounds exhausting. I'd much rather be indulging my instincts to sleep, eat and hunt.


*     *     *     *     *     *    *
Well, I've finally done it. I have written my no-holds-barred exposé of my life. Prepare to be AMAZED, prepare to be SHOCKED, prepare to be ENTHRALLED. Left is the paperback, right is the Kindle version.


            
You can follow me on Facebook,  talk to me on Twitter, and idolise me on Instagram.

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Monday, 9 November 2020

Toffee's House Rules




Due to the increasingly lackadaisical attitude of the old man and the old woman, I have had to draw up a few house rules. Other cats who are reading this may want to adopt them for themselves:

1 Every single square inch of the house and garden is a designated sleeping spot should I require it, including all soft surfaces (and, no, you can't make the bed while I am on it) and the top of your head.

2 Don't come home smelling of other cats. If there is any stroking to be done, I am here waiting (if I'm in the mood. I might not be). 

3 You are required to be my door monitor which means you must leap to your feet every time I sit in front of a closed door and open it immediately. It is irrelevant if I then ignore the open door and go back to where I was before.

4 There is no such thing as "your" food. All food in this house is mine. 

5 The bed is mine. Every square inch. If I choose to stretch out in the middle, you will scrunch up on the edge, even if you are in imminent danger of falling onto the floor.

6 You will buy me high quality, expensive toys regularly. I need the boxes they come in.

7 You must provide plenty of entertainment for when I am bored. Feathers on sticks, clockwork mice, balls of all kinds are all acceptable - for me to ignore 99 per cent of the time. But I need them available for the remaining 1 per cent of the time.

8 Do not in any circumstance allow next door's cat any access onto my property. It’s my garden. MY garden.

9 You will provide plenty of scratching posts all over the house, at least two in every room. So I can ignore them and scratch the furniture, the new carpet and your head.

10 Finally, do not assume that you own me. I own you. Body and soul. BODY AND SOUL.

*     *     *     *     *     *    *
Well, I've finally done it. I have written my no-holds-barred exposé of my life. Prepare to be AMAZED, prepare to be SHOCKED, prepare to be ENTHRALLED. Left is the paperback, right is the Kindle version.


            
You can follow me on Facebook,  talk to me on Twitter, and idolise me on Instagram.

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Monday, 2 November 2020

New Food For Toffee





Toffee: Sit down, old woman. We need to talk. 

This new food you've given me: 
  • Is it of an acceptable quality? 
  • Have you read the ingredients list? 
  • Have you tasted it? 
  • Does it have added vitamins? 
  • Is it cheaper than my old food?
  • Did it come from a tin, pouch or foil tray?
  • Do posh cats eat it?
  • Could you put it on a silver plate? 
Old woman: You have two choices, Toffee. Take it or leave it. 

Toffee: (Gives old woman withering look and stalks off.)

Half an hour later food has "mysteriously" disappeared.

*     *     *     *     *     *    *
Well, I've finally done it. I have written my no-holds-barred exposé of my life. Prepare to be AMAZED, prepare to be SHOCKED, prepare to be ENTHRALLED. Left is the paperback, right is the Kindle version.


            
You can follow me on Facebook,  talk to me on Twitter, and idolise me on Instagram.

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Monday, 28 September 2020

Toffee's Facial Expressions




The old woman was complaining that I only had one expression - and that was "grumpy". It's a lie, of course. I have very many different expressions and I look bright and cheerful in all of them. She's so dim she can't distinguish one from another so I have compiled a handy guide.


*     *     *     *     *     *    *
Well, I've finally done it. I have written my no-holds-barred exposé of my life. Prepare to be AMAZED, prepare to be SHOCKED, prepare to be ENTHRALLED. Left is the paperback, right is the Kindle version.


            


You can follow me on Facebook,  talk to me on Twitter, and idolise me on Instagram.



Wednesday, 16 September 2020

Stop, thief!







I'm livid.

That twit of a cat who lives next door, Rajah ("ooo, I'm so grand I am part Persian"), has stolen my chicken. The felon, the thief, the robber, the poacher, the crook, the...the...the CAT BURGLAR!

Admittedly I had not acquired that chicken joint by totally legitimate means. It may have just, um,  accidentally fallen into my paws after the old woman took it out of the fridge and put it on the kitchen counter but IT WAS MY CHICKEN. I had hidden in the garden to save it for a rainy day. Today was raining but the chicken had GONE and I spotted that TWIT Rajah dragging it away.

I have my revenge planned. I'm going to lure him into the garden by dressing like this. 




Scary, huh? Then I will...

ATTACK...

and peck him into submission. That'll teach him to tangle with Toffee, the little twerp.


*     *     *     *     *     *    *

Well, I've finally done it. I have written my no-holds-barred exposé of my life. Prepare to be AMAZED, prepare to be SHOCKED, prepare to be ENTHRALLED. Left is the paperback, right is the Kindle version.


            
You can follow me on Facebook,  talk to me on Twitter, and idolise me on Instagram.

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Thursday, 10 September 2020

Toffee Meets A Child






WARNING! WARNING! There is a child is in the house, brought in by its mother. I am keeping an eye on it as I know from previous experience that these miniature hoomans are prone to erratic behaviour.

Luckily this one seems to be both static and mute, which are qualities to which all miniature hoomans should aspire.

Then the old man said to mute miniature hooman, “What’s the matter, buddy. Cat got your tongue?” Bloody typical. I get blamed for everything in this house. NO, I DO NOT HAVE MINIATURE HOOMAN’S TONGUE.

(Have you looked under the sofa?)

Here's my book. You can look inside without buying - though why you wouldn't want to buy it is beyond me... 😹 😹😹 http://bit.ly/wordsbytoffee

*     *     *     *     *     *    *
Well, I've finally done it. I have written my no-holds-barred exposé of my life. Prepare to be AMAZED, prepare to be SHOCKED, prepare to be ENTHRALLED. Left is the paperback, right is the Kindle version.


            

You can follow me on Facebook,  talk to me on Twitter, and idolise me on Instagram.