December 2009 Archives
Merry Christmas, Keogh fans!
Tis the season to be jolly, whatever 'tis' means. Mind you, none of the moggies on my block are jolly - the big freeze has seen to that.
Even next door's pond has frozen over, which makes nicking a koi carp a smash and grab exercise.
When it gets this cold, the humans put food out for the birds, which is really unfair - they don't put food out for the cats.
Maybe they do. Maybe it's the birds.
1, Cats do mate for life: not with the same cat, admittedly, but they certainly mate until it's time to meet their maker. My mum was popping-out kittens until the day she died, although, admittedly, she died under the wheels of a schoolbus.
2, Cats do believe in the here-after, or, as we call it, the 'here-kitty-kitty-kitty after'. Cat-heaven is dog free and full of flightless birds. A place where moggies grow fat on meals on wheels, which are mice on roller-skates.
3, Cats do get Christmassy. Our Christmas story is pretty much the same as yours, except the Three Wise Cats brough gold, frankincense and purr.
What do you give a cat who's got everything - that's the dilemma? A lot of worming tablets and make sure they don't rub against children.
I used to believe in turkeys, but I don't now. If flightless birds that big exist why haven't I seen them dead on the road?
They're not British, says my mate Ginger. Tell that to Bernard Matthews: he reckons he's got a shed full of them in Norfolk.
You wouldn't rear them to shoot at. Turkeys falling from the sky would be like the blitz.
I think they're two chickens stuck together. "So why haven't they got four legs?" asked Ginger.
Easy. No one would be able to catch them if they did.
Either that, or they've been created in a lab for Christmas. If scientists could do that, they'd also produce satsumas as big as footballs and Brazil nuts the size of a human foot, surely?
The two things I hate about Christmas are Santa Claus - I suffer from claustrophobia - and the weather.
In Australia, it's boiling hot at Christmas and cats spend the day catching rays on the beach.
They're the real Sandy Claws.
Not many people know this, but the Siamese invented a martial art for cats.
It's a bit like a street fighting version of Wado-Ryu - a sort of Wado-Riyulookingat.
It's called mea-owwthathurt and for the first time a grand master has risked death to spill the secrets of this deadly art in a 12-part correspondence course.
Part one comes with a cat collar and bell that doubles as a knuckle (sorry, paw) duster.
I know this because the offer says: "Must not be used as a pawduster".