Silver trails

This morning I saw a long, thin silver string running from the French windows, through the bedroom and into the bathroom. "Hooray," I thought to myself, "I've been given a new game."

So I patted the string with my paw, and patted it again. But it didn't move.

I sniffed it. It certainly didn't smell like string, nor a silver chain. Then I saw a brown, slimy thing in the corner of the room - right by the bidet where I like to go and hide. It had funny horns that it was waggling at me. I didn't like the look of it, so I ran off.

By the sound of it, Mrs Servant didn't much like the look of it either. I'm sure it won't be back in a hurry.

I'm not flobby

The problem with Mr Servant being around during the day a lot is that he sits in the chair I like to snooze in. I also have to put up with his strict regime.

For example, just now I was spending a few hours fast asleep in my comfy bed. My paws were over my eyes - that's my 'do not disturb' sign - but he insisted on prodding me awake and forcing me out of my bed. And out of the flat. He even had the cheek to say "You'll end up all flobby if all you do is sleep".

What he doesn't realise is cats happen to need lots of sleep. It's what keeps us active and alert at night.

Mental note to self: wake up Mr Servant several times tonight by walking over him when he's asleep in bed.

The things I have to put up with

Sometimes I think Mrs Servant goes out of her way to frighten me.

Both the servants went out this morning and forced me outside. While they were gone it rained hard and I was left to get soaking wet. When they came back, Mrs Servant rubbed me dry with a towel (which I like). But then she went and got this very loud thing that blew hot air over me.

It was terrifying.

Luckily I'm very good at struggling free, so I only got about two seconds of noisy hot air.

It's high time I was left in peace so I can have a nice, quiet snooze....

Hiding in the bathroom

Something I really enjoy is skulking off to Mrs Servant's bathroom (for some reason they have one each) and settling down for a good snooze, huddled between the bath and the bidet.

This is a habit I formed when I lived in the flat downstairs. My horrid son, Pancake, used to bully me and hound me off the comfy chair that WAS MY OWN, so I was forced to take refuge in the bathroom. At least, there, I could get some peace and quiet and a bit of shut eye.

Old habits die hard.

Dirty face, what dirty face?

My servants are away again. But the friendly Animal Aunt is back, so I'm having a v. good time. When the children who live downstairs aren't playing on my patio area, I like to make the most of it and roll about for ages in the soil.