December 2011 Archives
Miaooow there, Keogh fans...
Soon be that time of year again when the fat person with a beard arrives. I don't know whose mother-in-law she is, but I always make a bee-line for her surgical stockings.
Strange time of year, Christmas. When me and my mates gather under a window and make a hellish noise, we're a nuisance and are in peril of having a bucket of water flung over us.
When humans do it, they're carol singers and get showered with gifts.
Can't be doing with all this tinsel. Makes me cough-up glitter (fur) balls. And what's the point of that bloody Christmas tree? Dunno what the woman on the top did, but judging by where they've stuck that branch, she must've annoyed them big-time - even more
than the turkey they've tied-up in the fridge.
Mind you, the human lodgers buy gifts for their pets at Christmas. Last year's soap-on-a-rope almost killed the two goldfish.
I've been presented with a toy mouse that squeals, furry balls and, the worst of all, a collar with a bell on.
And we'll dine on turkey and Christmas whine. The whine is usually: "who's put a sprout in my dish?"