M is For Mistakes

Mistakes? I never make one. My old man and old woman may THINK I have made a mistake but they are wrong.

They may see me climb to the top of the bookcase and then, apparently, miss my footing and plummet to the floor. I have, however, done this completely on purpose. I am in training for the Purrlympics. 

Never heard of them? Well, we cats don't like to brag about our athletic expertise so we hold our events in secret. I am the world champion in the Three Metre Drop and aim to keep my title this year.

My head is apparently stuck in a cardboard box. No, it is not. I can remove the box whenever I like. I am just in here checking there are no insects stuck in the corners. It might take me some time. Yes, I'm still looking. I know it's been ten minutes but I am nothing if not thorough. If you want to, you can take the box off me. I will humour you and allow you to do that. Like, now? NOW!

I apparently swallowed a bee by accident. Silly, silly you. Haven't you heard that bee venom cures arthritis? I know my face has blown up like a balloon but that's a small price to pay for not having this debilitating illness. I am aware I don't actually have arthritis  but this is merely proof that my preventative measure is working.

You laugh when I apparently chase my own tail in the mistaken belief it belongs to someone else. But what I am actually doing is testing Dizziness Resistance. I must make sure that after four or five head-spinning turns I can still stand up. I am doing this for YOU, old man and old woman. What if, for example, I spotted a mouse inside a-a-a spinning thing, how could I rescue you from the little monster if I were  having a dizzy spell? 

So you see I am a totally mistake-free zone.

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Singing The Song Of My People

After a busy day the old man and the old woman opted for an early night. I crept in about half an hour later and they were both fast asleep. I thought I’d give them sweet dreams so I settled down between them and started to sing a lullaby. Were they grateful? No, they were not.

They awoke. ‘For goodness sake, Toffee,’ the old man said sleepily. ‘Why all the racket?’

The old woman sat bolt upright and switched on the light. ‘Whassup?’ she shouted, like some bad-tempered teenager teleported from the 1980s.

‘It’s only Toffee,’ said the old man. ‘She’s having a funny five minutes.’ He began to stroke me and said, ‘Settle down, girl. Time to sleep.’

The old woman switched out the light and sighed deeply.

‘That cat is absolutely nuts,’ she said.

Charming.

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J is for Jail

I may occasionally sound slightly grumpy but I do appreciate my staff.

The Help (a.k.a. the old man and the old woman) do their very best for me despite their limitations. I expect good service and on the whole I get it. In return, they are well paid with guard duties (I always let them know vociferously when there is an interloper in the garden) and entertainment. They are always laughing at me and will often say: "Here comes Toffee's funny five minutes," demonstrating how much they appreciate my comedy routine.

However, yesterday they let me down but, even worse, they let themselves down.

As you may have noticed, Spring is springing so the old man and the old woman have been out in the garden. They have started tilling so many vegetable seeds that you might suspect there is a famine just around the corner and they want to be prepared. I haven't seen the catnip going in yet but no doubt it's just an oversight which will be remedied shortly.

I curled up on a bag of compost, peering out of the shed door to keep an eye on them. They always need me to supervise. It was a sunny day and as I was catching a few rays I thought I would "rest my eyes" for a while. The next thing I knew, that shed door was banged shut and I was TRAPPED.

I must have been there for HOURS AND HOURS, although I later heard the old woman say: "I don't know why she's making so much fuss, she was only in there  20 minutes." I think it was a slip of the tongue and she meant "hours", or possibly days.

Anyway, I yowled and scratched and then jumped up on the bench and pressed my face to the window to see if I could attract anyone's attention.

When they FINALLY let me out, I stalked off in a right old strop. This made them laugh. They're so stupid they can't even tell the difference between a justifiable sulk and one of my comedy routines.

I took myself off to the guest bedroom where I stayed for the rest of the day, punishing them by not allowing them my company. I saw later that they had tried to drown their sorrows by drinking lots of red wine and beer.

They are obviously contrite so I have forgiven them but they should know they are ON A WARNING and should anything similar happen again I might not be so forgiving.

My blog That's Purrfect is also in the A to Z Challenge. Read it here www.thatspurrfect.co.uk

*     *     *     *     *     *    *

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.

            

I is for Injection

Picture is not me, it's some other poor cat at the vet

I had to have an injection at the vet for a personal problem that need not concern you. Suffice to say, all is fine.

Now the old man and old woman are spoiling me. Grateful though I am for their concern at my indignity at the hands of Mad Needle Man, I thought I could still make capital out of the situation.

I’m actually feeling pretty well but I have finally perfected the ‘I’m feeling really poorly’ look and I thought today was a good time to try it out.

I dragged myself up onto the sofa and then lay there with my eyes open.

The old man picked me up and I flopped in his arms.

‘Do you think she’s all right?’ he asked.

The old woman looked worried.

‘I hope she’s not allergic to the jabs,’ she said. ‘I’ll see if she’ll eat.’

She brought in a handful of fresh prawns. I ate them in 10 seconds flat and meowed for more. She eyed me suspiciously.

‘Mmm, she seems to be bearing up remarkably well,’ she said.

'Yes, a remarkable appetite for a cat lying at death's door,' said the old man.

Has anyone ever told them sarcasm is the lowest form of wit?

My blog That's Purrfect is also in the A to Z Challenge. Read it here www.thatspurrfect.co.uk

*     *     *     *     *     *    *

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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G is for Grounded

It is more in sadness than in anger that I have to report that I sometimes have to GROUND the old man and old woman. The last time was a few weeks ago when I was forced to ground them for a month after their disgraceful behaviour at a party.

They completely ignored the curfew I set them and rolled in past midnight. They also ignored my rules about no laughing and no loud voices after dark.

They TOTALLY ignored my VERY STRICT rule about extra prawn rations if they are up late. I also blame the two hoomans who threw the party so I grounded them too. Oh, and EVERYONE who went to that party were GROUNDED.

My blog That's Purrfect is also in the A to Z Challenge. Read it here www.thatspurrfect.co.uk

*     *     *     *     *     *    *

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.

Food Glorious Food

I expect my high standards from my hoomans especially when it comes to food. They provide me with a decent enough diet - there's no supermarket own brand gloop, they share morsels from their own plates and I get the occasional treat.

It's true I aspire to those little tin foil trays that you see the posh boy cats eating from on the tellybox - I mean, the other day I saw an advert for cat food terrine. Terrine! I'm not sure what terrine is but even so TERRINE! I get tin foil trays occasionally as a special treat or on my birthday. But my favourite food is prawns, although I only get a few at a time.

Here follows a prawn lesson. Pay attention, I will be asking questions later.

My American friends call prawns shrimp, unless they're very big and then they're called prawns. We British call shrimp prawns and prawns prawns although we do sometimes call those small brownish prawns (that's the American shrimp) shrimps and the big prawns (prawns in USA) king prawns or jumbo prawns. Sooo, prawns can be shrimps and shrimps can be prawns or they could be both at the same time.

Australia, New Zealand and some Commonwealth countries tend to use the British definition. When Australian comedian Paul Hogan used the phrase, “I'll slip an extra shrimp on the barbie for you” in an American television advertisement, it was intended to make what he was saying easier for his American audience to understand, but was not what an Australian would typically say, they would say prawn.

I'm glad I've been able to clear that up for you... 🤣 🍤 🤣 🍤 🤣 🍤

            

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D is for DIY

The old woman is away until tomorrow helping her niece with a baby-related problem. Don’t know why they don’t trade Little Person in for a cat. It’s very ugly and very grabby, not nearly as attractive as a certain charming ginger girl I could mention. Just saying.

While she’s away the old man is attempting some DIY, putting up new shelves in the utility room. He has a big box of tools and is wearing a tool belt. I sit and watch him from the laundry basket. ‘Here’s some good advice for you, Toffee,’ he says. ‘Measure twice and cut once.’

Or, as it turned out, measure twice, cut several times, swear a lot.

He’s usually good at this kind of thing but the six-pack of beer he consumed may have clouded his judgement a smidgeon.

He spent the evening watching the tellybox, eating a takeaway, belching, farting and scratching himself.

In the meantime, the fridge has been declared an official biohazard.

I’ll be glad when the old woman gets home and civilisation returns.

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