Resolutions

So, we were having a little chat and cuddle this morning and she said to me that she thought I needed to make some new year's resolutions. She said for example that I should try to wash more frequently, not wee on the floor and to do what I can to stop snoring so loudly.

I gave her the look that said, 'straight back at you kiddo'.

Running away

She just left. Put on a fur coat and said I am off to the burlesque cabaret. Now, while I am there, Marley, I will probably be talent scouted, so I am not sure if I will be back at all. I will probably be appearing in Berlin this time next week, showcasing my 19 inch waist. I will try to find you a good new home but you never know. You might end up in the feline equivalent of Dotheboys Hall'.

I had no idea what she was talking about, so I just stared.

Oh, she said, as she left. Try not to spread your legs so wide when I am out. It's not attractive and they might get stuck like that.

Caught in the act

Yesterday, she got all dressed up and went out in the evening. She said she would be back at midnight and she had left me some supper and I had better eat it. Good, I thought. I have five hours to enjoy myself.

I pummelled my blankie and rolled onto my back, letting my slender legs roll apart as wide as possible and exposing my tummy to the world. This stance is very special and one you do not do in front of anyone. Well, I did it once in front of her and she laughed at me and called me 'disgusting creature' and said 'no-one wants to see that, Furbum'.

So, I snoozed and chilled with my legs akimbo. Imagine my shock when, an hour or so later I opened my eyes and she was there staring at me with a look of disgust on her face.

She said 'I was embarrassed that I was 24 hours too early for my date, until I saw what you got up to when I wasn't here'. Then she went into the kitchen and I could hear her laughing at me.

Sick bay 2

I was disturbed from my sleep by her ringing up the doctor. She was reciting her symptoms - sleeping for 14 hours at a time, can't get out of bed when awake, listless, decreased appetite, runny nose etc.

God what a moaner. And a fibber too. I mean, I haven't noticed a loss of appetite for example. And she was missing some of it out. Extreme clumsiness, slack housekeeping, irritating cough (well, it irritates ME), increasingly bizarre TV watching habits, cheese hogging, talking to herself, decreased lap size. She made an appointment for this afternoon. Perhaps they will send her away somewhere, I thought. A sane-itorium. That's a place where they make odd people sane again. I wish them luck.

This was a lot to think about and it wore me out. I skipped breakfast and had a siesta. Then, before I knew what was happening, she scooped me up, put me in a cage and whisked me off to the doctor. It was ME she was talking about.

Saw the nice doctor. He gave me a needle and some pills and said what a 'handsome boy' I was.

I AM a handsome boy.

Blue is the colour

I am feeling a little under the weather today and so is she. For a start, she refused to get out of bed until nearly lunchtime. I crept upstairs to have a look in, and she was lying on her back staring at the ceiling. I panicked - if she was dead, who was going to dish up my dinner?

Oh, she said, what do you want FatBoy? I shrugged my shoulders. I can't be bothered to get up, she explained. I am going to lie in bed until I die. My mummified body will be found on Pancake Day. Or what remains of it. You will probably have gnawed off my digits by then and my hair will be crusted with your drool. You'll get a good few meals out of my nose. Try to remember the good times, old boy.

So, I tried to remember the good times. I went downstairs again and left her to it. Some time later I heard the stairs creak and she loomed into view - a dreadful and awesome sight. I was a bit thirsty so I decided to have a cup of tea before I die, she said.

I'll have the salmon, I said.

Christmas drinks - grand prix style

Let me tell you about how Christmas Day went here. First of all, there was nothing under the tree for me (drat that mouse). Oh, but SHE got several presents, some of which she decided to wear at once. So, she was flabbing around the house in new pants and a fur wrap. Then she padded to the kitchen to open a bottle of fizz.

Watch and learn, Marlster, she said. I used to work in a champagne bar way back in the 80s. I'm an expert. Of course, this is cava, not champagne, but mixed with orange juice we will never know the difference...

And she started swaggering around with a tea towel, showing me the right angle and how to twist the bottle. Nothing happened. Dampened the tea towel under the tap and tried again. Nothing happened. Under the sink, rubber gloves on and tried again. Nothing happened.

She rummaged in the kitchen drawer. She started to chisel around the cork with a butter knife. Nothing happened. Rummage in the other kitchen drawer. Out with a wrench. On with a coat. Outside the back door she started to wrench the cork out. The cork broke. Into the kitchen, out with a corkscrew. Eventually the cork came out, and so did the cava in a gush.

She really is a dozy mare.

Things that go squeak in the night

It's true! Ghost Mouse was here - in this very room last night. I stayed awake as long as I could, watching the skirting boards long into the night. I must have dozed off at some point because when I woke up, it was daylight and I looked under the tree in horror. There was NO triangular shaped package addressed to me. It was gone.

Ghost Mouse stole my cheese.

I can't sleep

And it's all that bird's fault. My fur is standing on end. Earlier, she turned off the lights, except for those on the tree we have growing in the lounge. She said: It's our first Christmas Eve together and it's traditional that we tell each other ghost stories. I will go first. And while I was settling down on her lap she started....

T'was the night before Christmas

And all through the house

Nothing was stirring

Except for Ghost Mouse

Who, looking for mischief,

Spied a cat on a blankie

And used his tail for a rope

And his fur for a hankie.

He tickled Puss's nose

And ruffled his fur

But silly fat cat

Just let out a purr.

Mousey tugged the cat's whiskers

And down his back crept

But lazy black cat

Just snored as he slept.

Looking for more fun

Ghost Mouse spotted the tree

And said to himself

'Great - presents for free'.

A triangular package labelled

'Enjoy this Marley, please'

Was quickly unwrapped to reveal

Cheddar cheese!

Ghost Mouse smiled as he chewed

And laughed with a shake

At the stupid fat cat

Who couldn't stay awake.

And that's why, Marley,

On Christmas morn

Your stocking will be empty

And you'll be forlorn.

So watch out for Mousey

And his evil ways

To stop him from ruining

The best of days.

Handome chap

I WAS filthy. I got a foamy fur massage, a long rinse and a hot towel wrap. Then I had a thorough comb through and she tried out different fur styles on me. Centre parting. Mohican head and tail. Mohican body. Smooth comb-over. Back-combed tummy fur. Then she massaged my paws and tickled my ears and tidied up my crusty whiskers. It was most enjoyable.


Good grooming is essential for handsome chaps in their prime. It really is worth the time and effort.

It's Monday...

And that means it's bath night. She's getting all worked up about it upstairs, poddling around with my shampoo and towels. She's humming tunelessly because she hopes that will put me at ease. Fah la la, I am upstairs doing stuff that's nothing to do with you, Marley. Fah la la...

God she is so transparent. I shall spend the next ten minutes flexing my paws, claws and jaw in readiness.

Sick bay

I've got a bit of a snuffle.

Cheese withdrawal.

Fox News

I met a funny looking beast with a bushy tail on the patio yesterday. We sat down and stared at each other for rather a long time. He had pleasant whiskers and an interesting face and I just couldn't stop staring. He felt the same about me I could tell, and I hoped he hadn't noticed the pink collar and got the wrong idea.

It was all quite relaxing. That is until Mealticket flung open the back door screaming 'get away from that fox you stupid animal' and the party was broken up.

She gets very jealous when I try to make new friends.

Three pouches is NOT the magic number

So, she eventually went to bed on Sunday morning and I contemplated revenge. When she got up again at lunchtime, I asked to go out. I climbed next door, hid under the shed and settled in. After two hours, she was getting angsty and came out into the garden and called my name.

I ignored her. It got dark and I slinked into our back garden and watched her through the window. She kept looking outside but couldn't see me. Out she came again, calling my name. I sat my ground. She put on her coat and went out again, calling Marley - where are you sweetheart. Come on in, it's cold out here. She looked upset.

Eventually, my tummy was growling too much and I sauntered down the path to the back door. She opened the door and I gave her a great look. It was a look that said I might come in. I might not. I might just sit here on the patio while you plead with me to come inside and all the heat goes out into the garden.

This is psychological training of the highest order. After a full minute I sighed and slowly walked in and she smooched me and gave me the special M&S beef dinner as a treat.

Diet news

So, Friday was the first full day of the new regime, and it was harsh. Three pouches only. I licked UNDERNEATH my plate I was so famished. I had to sleep through my hunger and didn't get up until midday yesterday. I had two pouches for breakfast while she get ready to go out. I heard her booking a cab for 2 in the afternoon and she went out leaving me a third pouch for tea.

She staggered back home exactly 12 hours later, falling through the front door and sopping all over me with kissy kisses. I let out the most pitiful yowl I could. I yowled and yowled and she was so upset by the noise, she dished up a big plate of beef.

Then we had cuddles and watched Strictly.

My diet lasted a whole day.

The worst word in the English language

I've heard some bad words in this house. Cruel, harsh words. Name calling and sweary swears. But yesterday, she used words that froze my gentle heart.


I thought it was just another of those conversations where she blah-blahs on and I sit there pretending to take it all in.


Look, Marley, she said, taking a food pouch out of my special cupboard. I'll read the back to you.... two to three pouches a day. That's what it says. NOT three to four plus a cheese supper.

From now on you are on a DIET.

More name calling

• The Yukatollah
• Stink whiskers
• Fatty Catbuckle
• Catty Fatbuckle
• Clingy McDougal

Call Catline

These are just some of the names she has used for me in the last few days:

• Fat-face-four-feet
• Tubster
• Furry Fatface
• Stinky McGraw
• Monkey Paws
• The Droolmeister
• My beautiful furball (yuk)

Naturally, I call her names too. Gorgon Mealticket.

Nicely turned out

I had my weekly shower last night. This is how it happens.

She lures me upstairs with soft words and a cuddle. Before I remember what happened last time, we are locked in the bathroom and she is stripped to the waist. Then I stand in the bath and she turns on the shower, checking the temperature. Then she showers me from the neck down and lathers me up, holding me firmly with one hand. Then, when she is trying to pick up the shower attachment I leap out of the bath and cower behind the toilet. She chases me out, puts me back in the bath and rinses me off. I put on my most pitiful look.

She has my towel warming on the radiator and she rubs me down. When she has dressed herself, she wraps me in another warm towel and takes me downstairs, where she keeps the hairdryer. She gives me a blow. It's a nice, warm feeling.

Letter to Lapland

Dear Santa

I have been a good boy this year. Please bring me the following:

• A flock of non flying sparrows to live in the garden
• The 2009 Cheese Lover's Diary and/or Calendar
• The Ladybird book of British cheese
• A year's supply of strong farmhouse cheddar
• A different front door bell - this one makes me jump
• A blue studded collar

Also, something for my bird, who does her best by me. Please send her a taller bed as I can't fit under this one any more.

Oh. And a bigger lap.

Love from Marley

Human-animal trainer

She's been pushing her luck with me recently. We have an unwritten rule. She gets the bed at night-time. I have the bed during the day. And never the two shall meet. But she has spent the last two days and nights in bed, claiming to be ill. Moaning, groaning and feeling sorry for herself.

Self pity is an extremely unattractive trait in women. I got some small revenge by wiping my drool all over the sofa and 'accidentally' missing the toilet bowl once or twice. When she got up today she said she was feeling a little better until she came downstairs and started clearing up after me.

I do these things for her own good. I hope she's learned her lesson.

Big doo doo

She spent hours today getting ready to go out. Hair. Weird stuff on her eyes. Then a big mirror appeared in the room and she tried on an outfit. And another. Then another. And another. 'Is that too much flesh do you think?', she asked.

I spent some time pondering. Truth or nice?

She didn't wait for my opinion. 'I am off to a big do', she said. 'Don't wait up'.

Huh. 'Big do'!

I've left her one of those in the kitchen.

Tom and Jerry cheese

'I've got you a new cheese to try, Marley', she said to me last night. 'It's called Emmental.'

We sat on the sofa and I looked at the plate. It looked like cartoon cheese to me. 'See, Marley, we are going to share it. You can have the holes and I can have the rest'. Then she rolled around on the sofa, laughing at herself.

I maintained my dignity throughout.

Back to the story

So, I sat in my new cage in my new home. It was quite roomy and I could see the whole length of a sofa and the telly if I positioned myself properly. She fed me but she wouldn't look at me, or speak to me and she certainly never tried to pet me.

I was astonished at this behaviour. I sat for hours on end just watching her. What was wrong with me? Why was she more interested in everything else? I showed off my paper shredding skills, checking to see if she was watching. Not a flicker, but she turned the TV up a little. I used the toilet - noisily and messily. She got up and went out of the room, coming in later with a drink and staring out the window. Then she cleaned my toilet, but still wouldn't look at me. Later she put on some music and danced around the room a little.

I was out of prison, and in an asylum.