Watch Out For Purranormal Cativity on Halloween!

       

The old woman is looking at me funny. She has something behind her back. OH NO YOU DON'T, OLD WOMAN! She's changed her mind. Very wise,  old woman. Very wise. Phew, crisis averted! 

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Bedtime for Toffee

After many years of us living together, the old man and old woman have at last come to accept that the bed belongs to me. I allow them to sleep there because they make good hot water bottles in the cold weather.

But I do like to have plenty of room. Some mornings as I stretch across the bed to my full length I can hear them muttering as they perch precariously on the edge.

"How does she do it?"

"How can something so little take up so much room?"

Still, they seem to prefer this position to when I save space by sitting on the old man's head or the old woman's chest. 

It's now 8am and the pair of them are up. I have had a strenuous half hour eating breakfast and performing my morning ablutions. It's all very tiring work so please excuse me while I find a convenient place for a kip. It's clean bedding day so I think I'll settle down on the bed right in the middle of the duvet.

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Toffee Nails It

I am on high alert at all times. Even when I appear to be asleep (see Growling Not Snoring) I am ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. I have to keep my claws honed as sharp as a fishmonger's filleting knife so I sharpen when and where I can - the furniture, the stairs, doors... hooman heads. 

Not all of these - in fact none of them - seem to be acceptable for some reason, especially the hooman head thing.  I really don't know why when it is fulfilling such a vital function. Hellooo, hoomans, haven't you heard of zombies!

My old man and old woman provide me with "scratching posts". These are handy if they are right beside me but I'm never going to walk any distance to find one, "any distance" being further than six inches. So until then I will continue my manicures in other places. 

I've nailed it (see what I did there? Nailed it! I'm so good.)

          

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Toffee's Birds Disappear

A very strange state of affairs has occurred.

THERE ARE NO BIRDS IN THE GARDEN.

There were birds there when I went out this morning but, like something out of The Twilight Zone, they all flapped off into the great blue yonder. Not one remained.

I have NO IDEA why they flew off. They probably couldn't cope with my level of beauty. Yes, that must be it.

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Ditch The Dungarees

Bert who painted our sitting-room

Here's a letter I wrote to the old woman about her work apparel. Sorry, she had to be told. It's just one letter included in my next book due to be printed shortly. Watch this space.

Dear Old Woman,

Please tell me you’re not going to work wearing those dungarees? Stick a pencil behind your ear, wear a pair of thick glasses and carry a dripping paintbrush and you’ll look just like Bert who painted the sitting-room.

Toffee

Sadly, my admonition didn't work. She called me rude - really don't know why - and replied.

Dear Toffee,

I’m not taking them off. I’ll have you know dungarees are the latest fashion statement. All the on-trend fashion websites are writing about them this season.

The Old Woman

Yes, old woman, we can only guess what that "statement" is...

          

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Growling Not Snoring

The old woman reckons she has caught me snoring in this video. She is wrong. I AM NOT SNORING.

What I am doing, as she would know if she had half a brain, is emitting periodic low growls to keep zombies away. That's all the thanks I get for preventing her from having her brains sucked out. 

She already has only half a brain. If it wasn't for me she would have none at all.

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Toffee Gets An Early Start

The old man and old woman were running around like headless chickens this morning. I really don't know why...

It all began at about 5am. I was up bright and early and where were they? Under the duvet, snoring, the pair of them. Not even my cold wet nose pressed against their faces managed to wake them. My plaintive meow had no effect, neither did walking all over them.

I left them to it and strolled to the kitchen for breakfast. And, guess what, the darned bowl was empty, not a sniff of my morning meaty chunks.

I stalked around a bit and gave myself a good wash, thinking they'll be up any minute. But, no. The clock ticked around to 6am. Still snoring.

So what's a girl to do? I was so hungry I decided to find my own food. I went into the sitting-room and found three spiders. They're ex-spiders now. They didn't taste bad. Then I found a dead moth and swallowed it down. Then, result, under the sofa was that dried up bit of pork I had been saving for a rainy day and forgotten about. That rainy day has arrived - it went down a treat.

I had a couple of gulps of water to make sure all the ingredients were nicely marinated, waited a few minutes and jumped back on the bed - then puked it all up on the duvet between them.

Miracle of miracles! The sound of me puking woke them up. Cue their headless chicken act as they ran around looking for paper towels and damp cloths.

Well, they're up now and I have been fed. Both are looking a bit tired - but you can't have everything.

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