May 2009 Archives

"Does she do anything else?" drawled Simon Cowell, his voice edged with sarcasm.

"Well," spluttered Mike, colouring and shuffling uncomfotably on the spot, "she can lick her own backside, but I'm not sure she'll do it on command."

Amanda gave a horrified glance and buried her head in her hands.

Two bloody minutes I cuffed a ball, with both paws I might add, around that stage for those Britain's Got Talent judges.

Were they impressed? Were they hell as like.

Call me eccentric, but with the warm weather here I've started staying indoors at night.

Real cats stay out during winter. Hot nights are for tourists.

I've been out, with my mate Ginger, in blizzards. "What's that chinking noise?" I asked him during one particularly cold evening.

I'm in the dog, or should that be cat, house.

The humans were burgled while I was in the property and they're a bit miffed I didn't do anything. Actually, I did. I rubbed against his leg in an intimidated way.

He was so frightened, he stroked me...repeatedly.

I even miaowed, but when he didn't put any food in my dish, I went back to the sofa and fell asleep.

He may have taken more from the house than he realised, however. I've got a bad case of fleas.