The Hoomans Oversleep

My old man and old woman have been rushing around like blue arsed flies this morning after doing something called "oversleeping". They were tired because their sleep was disturbed by someone - ahem - zooming around the bedroom in the middle of the night. Whether that was anything to do with me, I couldn't possibly comment.

They eventually ran off to work at the rate of knots, glaring at me as they exited the premises.

The trouble with hoomans is that they waste so much energy doing things that don't need doing. For example, cooking. They don't need to cook. Open pouches, tins or packets of prawns (especially packets of prawns). Minimal energy expended on nutritious meals.

I found this on the internet and I would print it out for them but I'm conserving energy: "Hoomans should simplify their lives into energy intake (snack), energy conservation (catnap), energy restoration (snack again), more energy conservation for digestion (catnap again) and so on. Human eyesight is poor. It’s pitiful to see them blundering about, stubbing their toes in the dark, but their blindness is useful if you decide to snack on the hamster at midnight."

Wise words indeed.

          

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Toffee Goes On The Attack

In his head Rajah looks like this but he's nothing but a plain old scruffy cat.

Rajah, the stoopid cat from next door, thinks he's so grand because he's got a smidgeon of pedigree cat in him but let me tell you, he's nothing but an ANNOYING LITTLE TWERP with minimal hygiene skills.

What has he done to upset me now? He's breathing for a start but apart from that he crept into my house when the door was left open (YOUR fault, old woman) and stole my breakfast.

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. Little oik.

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Toffee Gets A Treat

My old woman decided to be "creative", a move that could only end in tears. My tears.  She decided to cook up a treat for me. For goodness sake, old woman, buy packets of prawns or Dreamies or chuck some cheese in my direction and save yourself the trouble.

She found a recipe for fish pate and proceeded to butcher a perfectly good whole fish. Why on earth she couldn't have used ready prepared fillets, like any normal person would do, I have no idea. 

You have never seen such carnage in your life. Bones and entrails all over the kitchen. Then she boiled it. I hadn't smelled anything so vile since I found a three-month old piece of pork I'd put in the garden shed and forgotten about.

My cue to skedaddle and hide under the bed in the guest bedroom. By the time I emerged, most of the fish "treat" had disappeared, leaving only a malodorous miasma lingering in the air.

"Here, have a few Dreamies, Toffee. The fish treat wasn't a huge success," she said.

Result!

          

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Toffee's Cardboard Box Complaint

I want a cardboard box like this

Today I had occasion to write a letter of complaint to a cat bed manufacturer. 

Dear Purrfect Puss Beds,

My old man and old woman bought a bed for me from your Deluxe Range. It’s OK. However, I must complain in the strongest possible terms about the box it came in. It is far too flimsy and after only two days’ use it is already badly frayed around the edges and the sides are breaking out.Please send a new box immediately.

Toffee

Can you credit it? This was there UN-believable reply.  

Dear Toffee,

I am glad that you like your new pet bed. We are sorry to hear that the box was not up to your standard but it was manufactured solely for transporting the bed and wasn’t designed to be used afterwards. As it is made of cardboard we recommend that it is put out for recycling.

Purrfect Puss Beds

What a state British industry is in when it cannot even manufacture a sturdy box.

(This letter is included in my next book Letters From A Feline Diva. Will be published soon. Watch this space.)

          

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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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