Keogh the cat : the claws are out!

THIS bloody Lockley family is a nightmare to live with, especially Mike.

He thinks I don't know what he says about me, but he's lining my litter tray with old copies of The Sunday Mercury and I can see it's not complimentary. Catty, in fact.

Of course, I repay the favour by using his column as nature intended.

Going into greater detail would be giving you too much information, know what I mean?

So I've decided it's time to get my own back. I'm sure readers will be far more interested in me than in Lockley, as most people love cats - and. let's face it, most don't like journalists.

Especially journalists who don't like cats.

These Lockleys are weird: they only sleep at night and only ever in the same place.

Mike occasionally drops off on the sofa, but only because he can't stay awake. Julie says the same thing happens when he talks to her, which is probably why she does the same every night about 10 minutes after he gets home.

Number One Son has his feet up on it, and sometimes female company, but for some reason he doesn't when the other two are around. I admire this greatly, along with our shared ability to sleep for England.
They feed me out of tins but mess around preparing fresh food every time they eat.

Their fur (which they call 'clothes' or 'gear') is a different colour every day and I think they change it because they can't lick themselves clean all over - and don't even try.

Probably not a pretty sight, on reflection.

They stand without their fur under the rain INDOORS to get themselves clean, but complain about damp in the basement. What are they like?

I've never seen any of them walk along a fence on tiptoes or sit on the window sill staring out at the garden for hours (although Mike is pretty vacant for long periods, usually weekends).

They cuddle this toy plastic mouse next to the computer screen instead of chasing it back in there!

Ridiculous.

I've tried to eat it a few times but it's too hard to chew and for some reason they keep getting new ones every time, but these aren't any better. Perhaps they should change their butcher.

I tried leaving them a real mouse as a present one night, but they threw it out without even trying, and carried on using the plastic one to play a DVD cartoon about a stupid cat and a clever mouse which kept escaping from its clutches.

Ironic, eh? Not to mention completely nuts.

Anyway, must go now. I've a few lady friends to see.

Unlike Mike, I NEVER mention ex-girlfriends in my column....

Bye for Miaoowwww!