Saturday, 8 October 2022

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.

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





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

You don't want to miss my next post, do you?  Enter your email address below and you'll be alerted to my next words of wisdom.

Thursday, 6 October 2022

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...



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

You don't want to miss my next post, do you?  Enter your email address below and you'll be alerted to my next words of wisdom.

Tuesday, 4 October 2022

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. T
hat'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.








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

You don't want to miss my next post, do you?  Enter your email address below and you'll be alerted to my next words of wisdom.

Monday, 5 September 2022

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.





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



Friday, 22 July 2022

Toffee Has A Distressing Day





I've been re-reading my book, Not So Sweet Toffee, and wondered what I had written for today's date July 22. I wish I hadn't, it brought back a somewhat distressing canine-related unwelcome memory.

I reproduce it below, so you can see for yourself why I was distressed! See, it's more than a sophisticated feline like me should bear.

July 22

What circle of hell is this? I am sitting under the coffee table while a demented servant of Satan whirls about snuffling and snapping. I swiped his nose when he poked it under the table and he made a yelping noise and backed off. I’m safe for now, but will he and other minions of Beelzebub return to torment me?

The old man and the old woman have betrayed me. In an act of treachery that is hard to fathom, they let this slobbering beast into the house with his hooman disciple.

‘He’s very well behaved,’ said Disciple. She lied.

I learned that this beast is called, ‘Sit!’ because that is what she keeps shouting at him.

Sit is now clawing at the old man’s leg. I can see the old man is less than pleased. He has that smile/grimace/BuggerOffYouLittleShit look on his face.

‘He’s only playing!’ Disciple says brightly.

The old man tries to sound jokey but I can tell he means every word; jaw is clenched, teeth don’t part. ‘Well, let him play with someone else then.’ Disciple laughs.

The old woman looks worried. She glances at me and then at the old man’s clawed trousers.

‘Let him come into the kitchen with me,’ she says, ‘I think there’s a little bit of beef in the fridge. Would he like that?’

‘Would you, boy? Would you? Would you? Yes, you would. Yes, you would. Yes, you would. Say thank you. Go on, say thank you. Say, thank you,’ says Disciple, in that talking to a dim child voice.

Sit stares at her, as well he might; she is obviously completely bonkers. And he is obviously a pouch of meaty chunks short of a box if he has to have everything repeated three times.

The old woman takes him off to the kitchen, shutting the door firmly behind her. She returns alone. I’m hoping she has consigned him from whence he came. If the consigning involved red hot needles and a ramrod, so much the better.

‘I’ve made a pot of tea and some sandwiches,’ she says, ‘so if you’d like to come through…’ They all disappear. I stay under the table until I hear the front door close. I emerge from under the coffee table as the old man and the old woman come back into the room.

‘Thank God she’s gone,’ says the old man, flopping onto to the sofa. I climb up beside him and he absent-mindedly strokes my ears. ‘I don’t know who’s more annoying that woman or the bloody dog.’

Dog? Was it a dog? I suppose that’s marginally better than a servant of Satan. Only marginally.





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

You don't want to miss my next post, do you?  Enter your email address below and you'll be alerted to my next words of wisdom.

Monday, 18 July 2022

Toffee Catches The Sun





We are having a heatwave here in the UK. This is unusual. Anyone familiar with the UK will know we are more often having a downpour. Even when the sun shines, it often rains as well and my old woman says gaily, "Oh, it's a sunshine shower!" She's half a sandwich short of a picnic.

I'm usually searching hard for a sun puddle. Today, though, I am spoilt for choice, sun puddles all over the place. I have been sweating like a pig in a ginger coat (do pigs wear ginger coats? If not, they ought to) but I'm cooler now as all the doors are open and this very nice sun puddle comes with a breeze.

Wake me up when there are prawns in my bowl and not before.



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

You don't want to miss my next post, do you?  Enter your email address below and you'll be alerted to my next words of wisdom.

Monday, 4 July 2022

Toffee's Toy Story






 

The other day the old man and old woman were having a big tidy-up. The old man looked worried as he always does when someone called The-Mother-In-Law visits. She's very strict and she frightens him.

They were gathering my toys together into a cardboard box and I heard the old woman say: "What on earth does she do with all those toys we buy her?" 

She tilted the box and few furry mice and a half-chewed cardboard bird rolled to one side. She shrugged and carried on with the housework. I closed my eyes and started to dream about real mice and birds.

Suddenly my pleasant reverie was broken by a yell.

"TOFFEE!" 

What was wrong? I thought I'd better go and see so I strolled into the living room… and the picture above is very similar to what I saw. The old woman didn't have her camera ready (unusual; she's usually got it practically stuck up my nose or up my rear end) so she found this on the internet to show all her friends on Facebook. 

Personally, I think that's a sheer invasion of privacy. I AM NOT AMUSED.







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