Sleeping in

She is such a lazy cow. It was nearly midday before she crashed down the stairs today. And the first thing she said to me was 'Look at you, you lazy good for nothing animal. You sat on that armchair at 4 o'clock yesterday afternoon. Twenty hours, Marley. Twenty hours...'

Staggering off to the kitchen I heard her muttering 'might as well be dead and save me the food bills and the extra housework...' which I thought was very harsh. Must remember to do something horrible to her today...

Why my ears were burning

The lady who looked after me when Mealticket left me home alone came round yesterday. I heard them talking about the most interesting thing in their lives:

'Thank you so much for looking after Marley for me'
'Oh, it was no trouble. Erm... he DOES eat a lot doesn't he?'
'Yes, he has quite a healthy appetite'
'Twice as much as my cats eat'
'Gosh. That much. Really?'
'Yes. And that drool...'
'Oh, I know. He can't help that. Still handsome though isn't he?'

There was an awkward silence. I heard Mutton clear her throat. And a pin dropped somewhere.

Spring is in the air

I've had a rotten weekend. It all started yesterday when she came home and said to me 'It's the right time of the year for spring cleaning, Fatpuss' with a look in her eye that could only mean one thing. The weekly humiliation of a shampoo and towel rub. I was astonished at the dirt that came out of me and my fur bunged up the plughole quite impressively too.

Not much better today. She woke up, came downstairs and tipped me off my blankie before shoving it in the washing machine. After that the curtains went in, which she said were hemmed with my slime, which seemed a bit of an exaggeration. Then she went round the downstairs scrubbing the skirting boards and walls, looking at me every now and then with disdain. 'This dirt is all you, Junkbum', she said, which was harsh in two ways.

To round off my misery, she is now plugged into her red thingy and dancing round the lounge with a stupid smile on her face. I hope Ginger isn't looking in. The shame of it all.

Is it legal

For humans to go away and leave cats in the house alone for a whole weekend? A strange lady came into the house to give me my tea on Saturday and my breakfast on Sunday. I hid upstairs and watched her through the banisters.

When she came home on Sunday she was rosy cheeked and windswept. That's not a good look on her. She was all lovey dovey and chased me around so she could give me little squeezes behind my ear. It was pathetic really.

So, I got around to planning my revenge and today I went out for six whole hours. I found a nice spot under a shed down the road and I sat out a heavy rainstorm. She called and I just listened. Eventually I returned like a hero and got two of the best flavour pouches for tea.

Prawns. Then beef.

Velvet revolution

I've got a lovely new collar! It's black velvet with real diamonds in it. She gave me a deep massage shampoo, a towel dry, a brush through and a combing and then snapped on the new collar.

There, she said. I know you have a bit of a velvet fetish and this black collar really looks good with your fur. You are the handsomest chap in the garden, you really are.

I quickly looked around the garden. There WERE no other chaps there.

Working in the garden

When she opened the back door this morning, the sun caught my fur and I sprang into action. With no regard for my health, I leapt onto the patio chair and curled up to wait for intruders. But the sun was in my eyes, and I couldn't keep them open. I must have dozed off because when I opened them again, my tummy was growling like a guard dog.

When I looked up, she was standing on a chair cleaning the windows and muttering about 'cat slime and paw marks everywhere'.

I had two breakfasts. Salmon with prawns and a chicken chaser. I saved some of the chicken in my whiskers for later.

Shove thy neighbour

I haven't been sick for three and a half days. My appetite has returned and I am back on top form, demanding three sachets a day and more if I can get it. I am, she said, a 'brave little soldier'.

I went out to patrol the perimeter this morning and met up with one of those loser cats from next door. Twix. What kind of name is that? He caught sight of me, turned on his paws and scarpered. What a milksop.