Monday, 30 November 2009

“Ask Bert”……Real Agony!

I hope you all had a pleasant weekend. I have been working very hard on your behalf, trying to resolve some of your problems, and my word do you have problems! I didn’t realise what a mixed up bunch of cats we had out there. As promised, today I present the first of what I expect to become a regular feature – my very own agony column entitled “Ask Bert”. Anyway, without further ado, let us dive straight in.........

Dear Bert,
I am a cute little ginger tailed cat living in West London with my brother, a great big black and white thing. My problem is that he is a very greedy cat, and tries to eat my food. Fortunately he is not very bright and me and my other brother, Tabby, can easily outwit him. However, he is getting on my nerves and ideally I would like to get rid of him. What should I do?
Yours etc…Ginger Tail.

Dear Ginger Tail, I sympathise with your problem. However, you should think yourself very lucky. Like you, not only do I have a troublesome brother, a poncy tabby thing, but a stupid little ginger tailed sister as well. Funnily enough, she thinks she is cute! I have been trying for ages to get rid of her, but she is too clever by half. If you come up with any bright ideas, then please do let me know. AlbertTheCat

Dear Bert
I am a good looking Tabby cat living in West London with my brother, a great big black and white thing. My problem is that he is a very greedy cat, and tries to eat my food. Fortunately he is not very bright and me and my sister, Ginger Tail, can easily outwit him. However, he is getting on my nerves and ideally I would like to get rid of him. What should I do?
Yours etc…Tabby.

Dear Tabby, What a remarkable coincidence. I also have a troublesome brother, a poncy tabby thing who thinks he is good looking. Like you, I have been trying to get rid of him for ages. However, you should count your blessings, I have a ginger tailed sister to put up with as well. She thinks she is cute. My advice to you is to keep a close eye on your brother. In my experience, he probably steals your food while you are having your afternoon nap – well, that’s what I would do if I was your big black and white brother. If you come up with any better ideas, then please let me know. AlbertTheCat

Dear Bert,
I have a very delicate problem of a personal nature. I have not been able to discuss this with anyone else, and am at my wits end. I am ashamed to show my face in the neighbourhood. I have tried to hide my “problem” from the other cats, but I think they suspect something is wrong. Every time I walk past, they squeak at me! It is hard to admit to this, but I am scared of mice. There, I have finally said it. It brings into question my whole being as a cat, and my self-esteem is at rock bottom. Please don’t tell anyone. You are my last hope. Please help.
Yours in desperation, Name and address withheld.

Dear anonymous (or should I say anony-mouse – just my little joke!), You suffer from a condition known to us experts as musophobia – a pathological fear of mice. Many congratulations – you are the first recorded case in the feline world. That must make you feel a whole lot better. It is well known that elephants are prone to this. I know it is highly unlikely, but first thing to do is look in a mirror and check that you are actually a cat. A big long nose is the giveaway. Now we have eliminated that possibility, let me put your mind at rest regarding your inferiority complex – it is not a complex – you are inferior, no self respecting cat is afraid of mice.

Now, George from Manchester, you can rest assured that your shameful secret is safe with me. My advice is always given in the strictest of confidence. A complete wimp like you needs to pull yourself together and shape up. I recommend aversion therapy - confront your problem head-on. Be brave, cover yourself in cream cheese, make squeaking noises, and go for a walk down the back alley after dark. If this doesn’t do the trick, then I suggest you hide under the bed and hang your head in shame. Well, I hope this helps. You probably feel on the mend already.

Dear Bert,
From reading your blog, I understand that your housekeeping staff provide you with a regular and plentiful supply of juicy prawns. I have to survive on meagre rations of lean chicken, fresh salmon, minced fillet steak and tuna. Sometimes, the tuna comes out of a can would you believe. I feel I am being sorely neglected. What should I do?
Yours etc… Fat Larry.

Dear Fat Larry, You have my deepest sympathy. Clearly your staff are treating you in a cruel and heartless manner. You need to make your displeasure clear to them. I suggest you go on hunger strike. I realise that this may be difficult what with all that mouth watering food in your bowl. However, I am sure I can help you. In exceptional circumstances such as these, I am prepared to do house calls. I will pop round and make sure you do not yield to temptation. Will be there within the hour, just packing the knife and fork. AlbertTheCat.

Well that’s enough problems for today. I hope my caring and sympathetic advice has been of help to our poor misunderstood friends. If any of you sad losers have issues that you feel would benefit from my expertise then please do drop me a line either through the “comment” link at the bottom or through Twitter @AlbertTheCat. I regret that I cannot enter into personal correspondence but please be assured, I will publish the most juicy and embarrassing ones – all in the strictest of confidence you understand. What a Life! AlbertThe(listening)Cat.

Friday, 27 November 2009

The Bloke Who Sticks Needles In Me Once a Year!

Greetings readers. Had a very quiet day so far. Not much has happened really, so I thought I would tell you about someone I really dislike. I refer to him as "the bloke who sticks needles in me once a year" - I think he has some spurious medical qualification, a failed doctor I expect.
Anyway before I get on to that you'll never believe what "my poncy brother" Tabby has been up to. Are there no depths he won't plumb in order to curry favour with the "pretty one". I crept back in earlier, when he thought he had the place to himself and spied on the proceedings. He was sitting on "the pretty one's" lap, purring away, even licking her. Nauseous to watch, but far worse was to follow. There is a footstool in the lounge shaped like a great big ball. Well, to show off, Tabby only goes and balances on the top, with that "look at me, aren't I clever look" on his smug face. I was hoping so much he would fall off, but no - "the pretty one" was overwhelmed with admiration, so much so that she gave him extra prawns. Her gullibility is totally beyond belief. I mean, I could have stood on top of the ball on one leg if such a stunt was not beneath contempt. Now that's got that off my chest, back to todays little story.

Once a year, without fail, all three of us are crated up and taken in the car to a little place just down the road. When we get there, we have to wait in this very smelly room - sometimes there are even dogs there. Fancy me having to wait in the same room as a dog. When we got there last year, I think they must have been at lunch, because there was a sign on the door saying "back in five minutes - SIT! STAY! ". Eventually we were taken in to another room that smelt of disinfectant. One by one we were taken out of our cages by this nasty, sweaty little man - "the bloke who sticks needles in us once a year" - I hate him.

"Better give them there annual check up first" he said in a threatening manner. He grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and dragged me out of the cage. He looked in my eyes, my ears, my mouth, up my nose and in other places I am too polite to mention. He groped me all over in fact and then said in a cruel voice "I'm afraid I am going to have to put him down!". I was horrified. "The pretty one" said, "but I only brought him in for a check up - why do you have to put him down?" "Because he's very heavy" he replied with an evil smile on his face. Oh very funny I thought, the shock nearly killed me - I mean fancy saying I was heavy - you can imagine the problems that caused, talk of diets, smaller portions, etc... I may have to resort to hunting - how many calories are there in a mouse I wonder!

Anyway, he then sticks a needle in me. "The pretty one" said to him "does that hurt", to which he replied "only if I stick it in my finger". Tabby and Ginger Tail then had to go through the same rigmarole before he stamped our three cards and we were put back in our cages and unceremoniously ushered out of the door back into the smelly room full of dogs. The lady behind the counter gave "the one I don't trust" a piece of paper that he looked at and shook his head before offering her a small piece of plastic, which she greedily grabbed. He always finds this a rather traumatic moment. "Enter the PIN" she said. I thought I was in for another jab!!! As we left, he was muttering something about daylight robbery and fat cats - I trust this was not a reference to me.

There is a lot more I can tell you about this place, but that will have to wait for another day. If I remember rightly, we are due to go again in a few weeks time. Must keep my ears open - they are bound to let on. I will keep you posted.

Well that's my lot for this week. I intend to spend the weekend mulling over the problems you have sent me for my inaugural agony column - Ask Bert, I am going to call it. There are some real corkers, really embarrassing some of them - don't worry George in Manchester, your secret is safe with me! If you have any questions you would like to ask me, it is not too late. I trust you all have a nice weekend. What a life! Albert(the not that heavy)Cat.

Thursday, 26 November 2009

The Dog Next Door - A Nutty Problem!

What a busy day I've had. It was a nice sunny autumn morning in London town, and I was up bright and early to take my place in the breakfast queue. After a rather small serving of prawns, I thought I would go for a stroll, and inspect my patch. I stopped on top of the neighbours shed in the hope that the nasty spiteful little Jack Russell that lives there would come out. I am working on a cunning plan to get rid of the thing! Sure enough, as soon as it saw me it came charging out, yapping away. It bounces up and down like a rubber ball - the more I hiss the higher it jumps. As soon as the owner comes out to see what all the fuss is about I hide behind a tree so she can't see me. She already thinks there is something wrong with the mutt. I am trying to make her think it is going mad. I have been doing this for three or four weeks now and, even though I say so myself, it is working rather well.

Now, I've noticed at our place that when the washing machine empties, quite often a load of soap suds froth up around the drain. This is rather inconvenient in one way, because it is one of my favourite drinking holes, but I think I can put it to good use. If I can just find a way of getting some of the froth over the fence and deposit it around the bottom of the shed then we could really be in business. Next time I wind up the Jack Russell, and the owner comes running out, she will see all this stuff where the little fellow is bouncing around. She will be convinced she has a mad dog foaming at the mouth on her hands. The stupid thing is on thin ice already after nipping the postman recently. If I can pull this off, it is likely to be the final nail in it's coffin. They are bound to send the men in white coats to take it away.

Once it had been dragged back inside the house, I wandered on. Stopped for a chat with wise Old Black Tom who lives down the road. We were watching a couple of squirrels. I've had a nasty experience with squirrels so I was a bit wary. I chased one once, and actually caught it. I had no idea what to do, so I was patting it about, when from nowhere, two other squirrels appeared, great big things - must have been mum and dad. Well would you believe it, they actually chased me off. I think of it more as a tactical withdrawal. Old Tom thought that I did the right thing, as he reckons they are nasty little critters - "taste a bit nutty, not worth the effort", he said.
The squirrels we were watching were burying nuts. Old Black Tom, who knows about these things, told me that they go to sleep for the winter and don't wake up until the spring. If they fancy a snack, they dig up a couple of nuts, have a quick chew and then go back to bed. I wonder if I could sleep all winter, after all, I am very good at it. I put in hours and hours of practice. What would I eat if I woke up? Perhaps I could bury some prawns. On reflection Old Black Tom thought it was not one of my better ideas. We must have both dozed off in the warm sunshine, because when I came to something was telling me it was time to go home - probably my stomach, lunch time must be fast approaching I thought. I bade farewell to Old Black Tom.

Well, I must have been asleep for longer than I thought, because when I got back, "my stupid sister" was sitting inside the back door licking her lips. "Lunch is just finished" she said, "we had prawns and biscuits - me and Tabby ate yours for you, they were ever so nice". Oh how she laughed! What a disaster, I had missed lunch. Now if only I had buried a few prawns for emergency use! Those squirrels aren't as stupid as they seem.Well that's my lot for today. Off to try and scrounge food. Perhaps I can steal some from Quasimodo - usually something on offer at his place. Don't forget to send me your problems for my agony column - see yesterdays posting for details. What a life! AlbertThe(very hungry)Cat.

Wednesday, 25 November 2009

Cometh the Bin Man!!

Hello again. I feel remarkably good today. Getting rid of those fleas has been most uplifting - I can't understand why "the housekeeping staff" made such a fuss about it. I still haven't forgiven my "stupid sister" and "poncy brother" though. They were sitting each side of the cat flap when I came in earlier. "Long time no flea" said Tabby, rolling around laughing, "don't be so nasty" said Ginger Tail, "poor Albert, I love you aw-flea". What a pair of smirking Judases - mmm... is there such a word? Not sure about the plural of Judas - might be Judi? Anyway, just to be absolutely clear, let's put it this way, there was one smirking Judas on one side of the flap and another smirking Judas on the other side. See, when you are well educated, like what I am, there is always a way round these things.

I was up early this morning, rudely awoken by the bin men coming down the road. I woke up in the fire place - must have slept like a log! I thought I would see what goes on, because they turn up on a Wednesday every week and make an almighty row. I was watching them out of the window. There were two or three black sacks on our garden path. Apparently "the one I don't trust" puts them out every Tuesday evening - I've no idea why. All the neighbours had done the same. Anyway, this great big lorry comes along, accompanied by about half a dozen men in bright yellow jackets. They pick up the sacks and throw some of the contents into the back of the lorry - the remainder they scatter along the road. It makes quite an impressive site, bits of paper, old tin cans, chicken bones, etc.. all over the place, blowing in the wind. I've no idea what this is all about, but I have worked out how well planned it all is. You see, another man comes along the street once a week on a Tuesday and sweeps up, so that the road is all nice and clean just in time for the bin men to arrive. All very strange don't you think.
The only other thing of note to report round here today is Tabby's fur ball - I have to give it to him it was the biggest one I had ever seen, and he did extremely well to find one of the few remaining pieces of clean carpet in the house upon which to deposit it. All three of us were admiring it when we heard "the housekeeping staff" approach. Call it sixth sense if you like, but I had a feeling that they would not share our sense of awe and admiration, so we all legged it as fast as we could. Listening from outside the flap, I realised that they must both be learning a foreign language, because he in particular used an awful lot of words that I hadn't heard before, followed by "I can't wait until I get hold of them!". Presumably he was missing us and was looking forward to our return so he could give us some prawns.

Now, before I sign off, I have an important announcement to make - due to overwhelming popular demand, I have decided to write an occasional agony column. I will be offering my advice to other cats on all manner of things. I may also consider dogs and humans if space permits. All you have to do is drop me a quick line through the "comment" button at the bottom of this posting, or through Twitter @AlbertTheCat. Just outline your problem, nothing is off limits, and you will benefit from my perceived wisdom, all in the strictest confidence of course. I look forward to hearing from you. I don't beat about the bush, you can rest assured that I give advice that no one wants to hear - I think I got that bit right? Look forward to hearing from you.

Well that's quite enough for today. I'm off to see what nice little treat "the housekeeping staff" had in mind. What a Life. AlbertThe(very caring)Cat.

Tuesday, 24 November 2009

The Best Laid Plans.......

Good day readers. I trust you are all well. I left you yesterday, having been treacherously betrayed by "my poncy brother" and "stupid sister", holed up under the bed in a gallant attempt to avoid the dreaded flea treatment. I hoped to make a break for it after dark. Well, as they say, "the best laid plans of mice and men". Who on earth said that. Must have been me, there's no one else here! When has a mouse come up with anything remotely resembling a sensible plan, come to that when has a man?

Back to the matter in hand. I thought things were going well, until I heard "the one I don't trust" creeping up the stairs. Do you know what dastardly trick he played? He only waved a juicy prawn by the side of the bed. Did he really think I would fall for an old scam like that. It was a battle of wills. I refused to crack, and held out for what seemed like a lifetime - must have been at least thirty seconds. He then played his trump card - "if you don't come out I'll give the prawn to Tabby" he said. Anyway, it was an extremely tasty prawn, but unfortunately I ended up in a headlock. I managed to inflict a few scratches, and a little nip to one of his fingers, but eventually had to admit defeat. The "pretty one" appeared with the flea stuff, squirted it on my neck and it was all over in a flash. I suppose it was all for the good. I got a few extra prawns afterwards, and I certainly don't itch as much. The only irritation I have now is my "poncy brother" and "stupid sister".Looking on the bright side, I don't have to concern myself with fleas for a little while. I get de-flead once a year - whether I need it or not. After I had been "done", "the one I don't trust" decided to go fishing, well I think he did, because he said, "next thing is worms" - presumably he was going to dig for bait in the garden.

Well that's my lot for today. I'm off to settle a score with "my poncy brother" and "stupid sister". What a life! AlbertThe(flea-less)Cat.

Monday, 23 November 2009

Fleas! - Moi? Surely Not.

Good day to you all. I trust you had a nice weekend. I had a much needed restful one - most enjoyable. However, something very worrying is going on here today. More of that later, but first, to tie up a few loose ends from last week. You will recall, when I left you on Friday, I was sitting beside the big white thing in the kitchen where the prawns live. My little scam worked a treat - sure enough, "the pretty one" came in and took out the prawns destined for their supper. I gave her my best cute and adorable look, rolled over on my back a couple of times and "Robert's your Dad's brother", she gave me loads of the things. It works every time - she is a little gullible after all. Nearly got rumbled by "the one I don't trust", he couldn't understand why there were so few prawns in his curry - he may have had suspicions though, as he kept giving me dirty looks and saying "look at the state of that cat - he's so full he can hardly walk".

I hope you liked the football video from Saturday - just between you and me, and in the strictest of confidence, I am thinking of setting up my own TV channel to show further video clips - AlbertTV or BertVision I am thinking of calling it - what do you think?

Anyway, back to the business in hand - a very serious matter indeed. I heard "the one I don't trust" saying he intended to treat us. Now that's very nice I thought, looking forward to extra prawns. Not a bit of it - treat us for fleas he meant. What a damn cheek! He said this right in front of me - they are so stupid, they still think we don't know what they are saying. I quickly summoned an emergency meeting with "my poncy brother" and "stupid sister". We agreed that we had been itching a bit recently. I have worked out how this happened. I reckon we caught them off of the "housekeeping staff" - you see I did notice the pair of them scratching the other evening, and they were both sitting on the settee in exactly my favourite spot! Now it doesn't take a great leap of the imagination to put two and two together and make five does it.
Well earlier today he came in with these three little blue sachets and called us as if it was prawn time. He really must think we are as thick as he is, because all three of us were off to the hills before he had a chance to shut the cat-flap.

When they went out, we crept back in so I could write today's blog for you. Ginger Tail was keeping watch at the front door and Tabby on the windowsill looking down the road. They promised to give me a shout as and when the staff returned. A case of you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours you might say. Ho Ho! I must have nodded off, because I was awoken by the sound of the cat-flap closing and voices coming from downstairs. What happened to the early warning system you all ask. I looked out of the window and saw the other two sitting in the garden - "couldn't stop, we had to flea" chortled Tabby. "Yes" said Ginger Tail, "we were itching to get out". Oh how they laughed! I had been betrayed. You wait until I get hold of the pair of them.
Well that's my lot for today. I'm off to hide under the bed. If I can keep my head down for a couple of hours, I might be able to make a break for it under the cover of darkness. I'll tell you how I got on tomorrow. What a life! AlbertTheCat (and his little six legged friends).

Sunday, 22 November 2009

Day of Rest

Albert cannot be with you today. He is resting after a hard week's blogging. His plan for today is to have a good kip. You can see from the picture below, that he is making good progress.
He has instructed me to use his computer and told me to tell all his admirers that he will be back, fully refreshed and raring to go tomorrow. I also have to go now, I have been dispatched to the supermarket to get a fresh supply of prawns! What a Life. Hope you all have a nice restful Sunday. "The one Bert doesn't trust".

Saturday, 21 November 2009

Match of the Day!

Good morning one and all. I have decided to take the weekend off. I am all blogged out - suffering from writer's block in fact. I will be resting, and as I know how disappointed you all must be at this most distressing news, I have posted a little treat to keep you going until I return. You will recall a couple of weeks ago I showed you a little video clip of me and my brothers and sisters playing football as kittens - well as a result of overwhelming demand, I have got an even better one to show you. Take a look at this! Watch out for a special guest appearance about half way through of my Great Uncle Porky - he was the referee.

Hope you enjoyed it. I will be back next week. Off back to bed. What a life! AlbertThe (very tired) Cat.

Friday, 20 November 2009

The Big Green Thing Outside The Back Door.

Surfaced bright and early this morning. No repeat of yesterday's disaster. I was first in the queue for breakfast, and managed to eat not only mine, but most of Tabby's as well. A most satisfying start to the day.

I was thinking about going for a walk with Tabby, "my poncy brother" but it is wet and windy outside and him being a bit of a poser, he doesn't like getting his fur wet. I'll probably just go for a dig and a scratch in the garden later. The garden is the big green thing just outside the back door. I have noticed that the grass is a bit long. It's good for playing lions and tigers in, but not much fun when it is soaking wet. I can hardly see over the top of it in places. This is not really good enough, I mean, I have two "housekeeping staff" on the payroll - you'd think they should be able to keep the garden in trim.

Being a keen birdwatcher, I quite enjoy roaming around in the garden. Do you know, we have a robin's nest in the tree. I sit for hours underneath looking up at the little perishers. I have tried to climb up and get at them, but what with the old war wound, that I don't like to talk about, I'm not as nimble as I used to be. "My stupid sister" managed to get in there once, but fell out. Fortunately she landed on her head, so no serious damage was done.

There are two great big pigeons as well. In the summer they ate all the cherries from the neighbour's tree, scoffed the lot they did. For a small consideration, say, a dozen prawns a day, I would have been willing to guard the tree. As the old Chinese saying goes - "it is better to feed one cat than many mice", or pigeons in this case.

There are all sorts of things to get up to in the garden. I love playing hunt the bulb - the "housekeeping staff" bury them for me. It is a little game we play. It keeps them amused. There are lots of nice soft bushes and plants for rolling in, dirt for digging up and throwing on to the lawn, and new shrubs planted especially for me to use as scratching posts. I know they appreciate it - only the other day "the one I don't trust" saw me digging, and thinking it must be thirsty work, came running up to me with a large bowl of water. How thoughtful. Unfortunately when he got close, he must have tripped, because he used some very strange words that I am not familiar with and the water spilt all over me. Very careless of him, but I suppose his heart was in the right place. Overall, I have a reasonable relationship with the staff. It is based on give and take. They give and I take!

Well that's my lot for today. Heard them say earlier that they were going to cook a king prawn curry for supper. Now if I play my cards right and sit near the fridge (the big white thing in the kitchen where the prawns live) I reckon I can scrounge a few, if I put on my cute and adorable look. What a life! AlbertTheCat.

Thursday, 19 November 2009

Where Are They Now ????

Hello again. Got up a bit late this morning and missed breakfast. Very remiss of me - it happened once before, 4th March 2006 - I'll never forget the date. So, today's objective is to scrounge an extra meal somewhere along the way to make up for it. I will have to use all my natural charm and powers of persuasion. I might even have to let "the pretty one" stroke me - she likes doing that. She gets plenty of practice, what with my "poncy brother" trying to suck up to her all the time. It is nauseating to watch.

Instead of the usual offering, today I need to ask for the help of all you other cats out there, maybe even dogs - I'm still thinking about that. You will recall a couple of weeks ago I told you that originally there were five of us in the litter (click here). You already know about three of us - me, the pick of the litter, Tabby, "my poncy brother" and Ginger tail, my "stupid sister". What happened to the other two I hear you ask. A very good question. Well, I had another brother called Spotty, should really have been called stroppy - my word he was a nasty piece of work, and another sister called Little Tortoiseshell, a most charming cat.

When we were about four months old, they disappeared - never to be seen again. One Sunday morning we were busy chasing a ping pong ball around and pulling threads from the furniture when most abruptly, "the one I don't trust" shushed three of us into the garden. I looked in the window and saw Spotty and Little Tortoiseshell being put in a box. Spotty took great exception to this, but at least he managed to draw blood - a mere flesh wound unfortunately. "The one I don't trust" was soon bandaged up.

I think they may have been taken to a new home, because when they returned, I heard "the pretty one" say, "fancy Spotty doing that on the carpet. Do you think he will ever come out from under the fridge?" To which my answer would have been "probably not". He could still be there now for all we know. I don't think it is coincidence that we all moved house a few days later - I think the "housekeeping staff" were worried that he would find his way back!
I don't see why they had to give the two other kittens away really. Why couldn't they look after all five of us - I mean we're not much trouble are we? I suppose I can see why they unloaded Spotty. If truth be known, I was not too disappointed to see the back of him. They should definitely have kept Little Tortoiseshell though, instead of Ginger Tail, the runt of the litter. She certainly wouldn't have played nasty tricks on me.
So, the big question is where are they now?? I need your help to track them down. I am putting out an APB (All Pussies Bulletin), and am prepared to offer a small reward. For information on the whereabouts of Little Tortoiseshell and her safe return, I will give six prawns, yes six! For information on Spotty, I will give three prawns, however if the current owners decide to send him back, then you owe me a dozen prawns! I can't say fairer than that. Don't forget to look under the fridge!
I am waiting for your call - you can get me through the good offices of Twitter @AlbertTheCat.
Well that's the lot for today. I look forward to hearing from you. I'm off to work on my breakfast substitute. What a Life! AlbertTheCat.

Wednesday, 18 November 2009

A New Career Awaits!

Everything seems to be back to normal this morning after the trials and tribulations of the last few days. Partook of a few prawns for breakfast - most acceptable. Weather is dreadful today, so no plans to do anything too strenuous - a nice long snooze on the duvet seems favourite. I trust my "stupid sister" and "poncy brother" will not disturb me - I am still not talking to them!
I was wondering what I should ramble on about today, then I remembered something I had seen recently. I was sitting on the front window sill, watching the world go by - I keep an eye out for the spiteful little Jack Russell that lives next door. For a dog, he is very small - what he lacks in height, he makes up for in noise, always yapping away, especially when he sees me or the postman.
You'll never believe this, but he has a dog-flap in the back door! I've never heard of such a thing, didn't even know they made them. I thought this was a privilege only us cats enjoyed. Mind you, a miserable little thing like him, could probably get in and out of the letter box! When I see his owner taking him for a walk, I like to pop round, let myself in and see what is on offer in his food bowl. His owner spoils him rotten. Quite often there is minced steak or even fresh chicken. It would be a very poor show to see this go to waste, you know, what with global warming, declining natural resources and all that stuff. So I help out by scoffing the lot. I feel I am doing my bit for the environment.
Anyway, what I really wanted to tell you about was what else I saw. A man with a white stick walked past, with a nice looking Labrador dog on a lead. The dog was wearing a very fetching yellow jacket. Do you know what happened next? Well when they wanted to get to the other side of the road, the dog sat at the kerb and looked both ways, waited for a car to pass, stood up and led his owner across. Now I thought that was very clever, especially for a dog. Crossing roads is extremely difficult. Ask "my poncy brother" Tabby, he got himself run over last year trying - Oh how I laughed! Depending on your point of view, you may or may not be pleased to know he made a full recovery.

This puzzled me, so I went and saw the wise old Black Tom from down the road. He is a very clever cat - he told me so himself. The fount of all knowledge in fact. He reckons that dogs, being a little slow on the uptake, can be trained to perform certain tasks, even very complicated ones, to help people. What I had seen was a dog helping someone who couldn't see very well. He said as well as "seeing dogs" for those who have eyesight problems, there are also "hearing dogs" for those who are a little deaf. Well this set me thinking - what with humans always being on diets, they must need "eating cats" to help those who are watching their weight. Without wishing to sound big-headed, I could be very good at that. Old Black Tom thought so too, said it was a good career opportunity for me and I should start putting in plenty of practice. I intend to follow his advice.
Well that's my lot for today. "The pretty one" here is always talking about diets. I need to make sure she is aware that my services are always available to her. I am a very thoughtful cat. What a life! AlbertTheCat.

Tuesday, 17 November 2009

Good Ideas Can Seriously Damage Your Health!

Would you believe it! Would you Adam and Eve it! I've discovered that a cruel and fiendish hoax has been perpetrated upon my good self. I told you yesterday that I had detailed my "stupid sister" to spy and report back on the visit of the nosy neighbours and their ill-disciplined brood. The upshot was that despite my sylph like figure, the very serious threat of being put on a diet was back on the agenda. You can imagine the distress this caused.

Well, it now appears that Ginger Tail - "my stupid sister" thought it would be a good idea to play a little joke. Her report of the proceedings was a complete fabrication. She made the whole lot up. I smelt a rat (so to speak), when I saw her and "my poncy brother", Tabby, whispering to each other and then giggling. "What's afoot" I asked - "about twelve inches" chuckled Tabby as he dived for cover under the bed - Oh how they laughed!
Ginger Tail only let on when I bribed her with half a dozen of my reserve stash of prawns - what is this world coming to, deception and dishonesty all around. It was hard work pilfering those prawns while "the housekeeping staff" had their backs turned. They saw me eyeing them up and "the one I don't trust" said "No" in a very stern voice. All of us cats understand that when humans say "no" what it really means is "not when I'm looking".
Naturally I am livid, but at least I don't need to concern myself about the diet for the time being. In fact, prawns were in plentiful supply this morning. I've told "my stupid sister", that next time she has a good idea she could end up covered in concrete. Good ideas can be very bad for your health. I've tried to avoid having good ideas ever since my great uncle Porky, a very wise cat, told me that when you have a good idea you end up covered in concrete! He had a good idea once, he thought it was a good idea to take a nap inside a cement mixer - he woke up covered in concrete.
Do not fear, I will get my revenge on the other two. Who was it that said "revenge is a dish best served cold"? Of course, it was me, I just said it.

Well that's your lot for today. I'm off out for a stroll while the sun is still shining. Might pop over to the nosy neighbours garden for a dig. I reckon they were in on this little scam. What a life! AlbertTheCat.

Monday, 16 November 2009

Nosy Neighbours !

Not been a good day so far. Things started badly, and then went downhill. My peaceful slumber was disturbed at some unearthly hour this morning by all manner of banging and crashing. Seven 'o' clock would you believe - I didn't know there was a seven 'o' clock in the morning as well! The "housekeeping staff" were up and about and in a right panic. You will remember that on Friday I told you they had cleaned the place up in anticipation of visitors, who fortunately never showed up. Well little did I know, but they were re-scheduled for this morning. I hate visitors. So we had the damn vacuum cleaner out again. What a row. "My poncy brother", "my stupid sister" and me had put a lot of work in over the weekend to get the hair back on the furniture - it had been a real team effort, all to no avail.

We were all shoved out into the garden - it was barely light. The prawns were virtually non-existent - a mere afterthought as we scuttled out of the cat flap. You can see Ginger Tail making her escape. Me and tabby were half way down the garden! easy to see how she got her name. "The one I don't trust" also had the right idea. As soon as the clean-up was finished, he cleared off as well. No idea where he went, but he looked pleased to be getting out of it. I crept back in for a snack, but there was to be no last minute reprieve this time. Just after nine 'o' clock, a knock on the door, and they arrived. I took one look and headed for the hills - two woman that live just a few doors along the road and three, yes three small children. If there is one thing I hate more than visitors it is small children. I recognised one of the women - for some reason she doesn't like me. The feeling is mutual. I had recently dug some bulbs up and flattened a few plants in her garden for her. She was most ungrateful and chased me off with a bucket of water. I hope she hasn't come round here to complain!

I have subsequently discovered what went on. I sent my "stupid sister" Ginger Tail, back to spy. She sat on the windowsill and observed everything (see picture). The three kids ran amok - apparently one of them even played with my toy mouse - he was chewing it. If only they knew where that had been, it would have certainly wiped the smile of mum's face... Ho Ho. Worse is to come. Ginger Tail's cover was blown. She was spotted and the conversation turned to cats. One of the woman, the troublemaker, said:-
"I've seen that cute little ginger tailed one on my garden shed, along with a nice looking tabby. Are they yours".
"Yes" says the "pretty one".
"They're lovely" the woman said, "but what about the big fat black and white one who digs up my flowerbed - is he one of yours as well?"
Big! fat! - what a cheek. I don't hold out much hope for the herbaceous borders in her garden next spring. The real problem however as regular readers will realise is that the possibility of being put on a diet is back at the top of the agenda. I thought this outrage had died a natural death, but just one ill informed comment has undone all my good work. It has reinforced "the pretty one's" misguided view that I am overweight. Surely it can't come to this. I barely survive on what they give me at the moment. Think I'll go and console myself with a few cat biscuits. I can't imagine there is much chance of any prawns today now. Only hope is to use my irresistible charm on the "pretty one" - it usually works. How can she resist.
Well that is definitely the lot for today. Much to think about. Let's hope we have a quiet day tomorrow. What a Life! AlbertTheCat.

Sunday, 15 November 2009

Only Nine Lives!!

Greetings one and all. It is a fine day here in old London town. I was up at the crack of lunchtime, the sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky, nice and warm. I very nearly got up and went for a walk, but after giving it due consideration, I decided to turn over and go back to sleep. As regular readers will know, I am a firm believer in Sunday being a day of rest. Anyway, I have had to get up now, in order to partake of breakfast before lunch. If you're not careful "the housekeeping staff" are liable to combine the meals - brunch they call it. No self-respecting cat would go along with an idea as stupid as that. Why have one meal when you can have two? On a positive note, you will be pleased to hear that there has been no further talk of putting me on a diet. It seems to have gone on the back burner. My show of displeasure at the very prospect appears to have nipped this outrageous idea in the bud.

I am getting a little concerned that the "housekeeping staff" are not showing me enough respect. They are getting ideas above their station. I discussed this the other night with the wise old black tom from down the road. He's in charge of the Feline Local Education Association (FLEA for short). We call him "Chairman Meow". He said that they should be more like the ancient Egyptians who actually worshipped cats - we were looked on as gods. This seems to me to be a most satisfactory arrangement. Apparently when cats died in Ancient Egypt they were mummified and chucked into the pyramid along with the Pharaohs. Now this came as a terrible shock to me, because I had no idea that we died - I thought this was purely a human characteristic, and once they had passed their sell by date, then us cats just acquired another one.
This is me pontificating the prospect of mortality. I was quite taken aback, so much so, that I needed to go for a lie down in a darkened room. On reflection though us cats do have nine lives, which is eight more than humans, so I've probably got a while to go yet. I wonder how many I have used up so far? A worrying thought!
All this thinking is making me tired, so I will sign off for today. I will return tomorrow. What a Life - all nine of them! AlbertTheCat.

Saturday, 14 November 2009

Daft things humans say !

You'll be pleased to know I am feeling much better this morning. Weather was atrocious, so I had a night in, curled up in my favourite armchair. Prawns were on time, and despite my "poncy brother" still being on king size rations all is reasonably well with the world today. Fortunately the visitors that we were expecting failed to materialise, so the "housekeeping staff" cleaned the place up for nothing. Me and my "stupid sister" are planning to get things back how we like them later - plenty of hair and mud on the furniture. Could be a busy day.

I thought I would tell you about something I observed a few days ago. As you know, "my poncy brother" had an appointment to see "the bloke who sticks needles in us once a year" - I hate him! To prevent him heading for the hills, the cat flap was closed. Cometh the hour, no cat to be found anywhere! "The pretty one" was searching high and low, but still no cat. Eventually his cunning plan was foiled and he was discovered cowering behind a box under the bed. Do you know what "the pretty one" said to him?

"Why are you always in the last place I look"

Once she'd found him she stopped looking, so it was bound to be the last place! How stupid. No wonder these humans are only suitable for menial roles.

Well that's my lot for today - I have much to do, and can't hang around here chatting. To amuse you, I thought I would show you a picture of my poncy brother drinking out of the watering can. I might be back tomorrow, or I might have a day off. Not sure yet. What a life! AlbertTheCat.

Friday, 13 November 2009

The Demon Drink!

Morning all! Hope everyone is well - oh you are, are you? I'm absolutely delighted! It's alright for some then isn't it!! I'm in a foul mood this morning. I'd keep out of my way if I were you. Can things get much worse? Look what has happened in the last few days alone - "my stupid sister" spreads false and malicious lies about my prowess as a fighter, "my poncy brother" recovers from his potentially life threatening affliction (he's still getting king size prawns by the way - makes me sick!), "the housekeeping staff" plan to put me on a diet, and then to cap it all I've got a stonking hangover. And it is raining!! This is me having a "hair of the dog" - daft expression, from the puddle!

How did this happen? Well, quite naturally, I took great umbrage over the diet issue, so I decided to go out for a drink with a few of the local tom cats, you know, a lad's night out. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I didn't get back home until this morning. What a night - can't remember too much about it, but I've got a rotten head ache. Last thing I can recall is five of us sitting on the back wall and singing "cool for cats" and then some bloke opens a window and shouts out "do you know what time it is?" I look up at the night sky and helpfully shout back "about half past three"! Now I thought he would be impressed by the cat's ability to tell the time from the stars - not a bit of it, he chucked a boot at us. How rude!

We had some deep and meaningful discussions, how the world would be a far better place if dogs hadn't been invented, do humans have any purpose apart from looking after us, you know the sort of thing. I mentioned that I was considered by the "housekeeping staff" to be too heavy. The old black tom from down the road looked me up and down and reckoned that this was far from the case. He said that in fact the problem is, I am a little too short for my weight and need to eat more prawns to make me grow taller. What sensible advice, and he should know, you should see the size of him.

When I woke up under a bush, it was hammering down with rain and I arrived home soaked to the skin. A light breakfast, a dry on the settee, followed by a nice long nap seemed the order of the day. I should be so lucky! Looked through the backdoor, and saw the housekeeping staff. They were up and about early and worst of all they had the damn vacuum cleaner out (you can see the look of horror on my face in the picture). This can only mean one thing - yes you've guessed it - we must be having visitors. I hate visitors. I mean the place really doesn't need cleaning, they did it about three weeks ago. It takes that long to get a really nice layer of hair all over the furniture - gives the place a homely feel I always think. Will be back to square one now.

Well that's my lot for today. Once the noise of that damn vacuum cleaner has stopped, I think I will creep up to the bedroom and put my head down until lunchtime. Oh dear, think I can feel a fur ball coming on - shouldn't have had that last drink from the puddle. What a life! AlbertTheCat.

Thursday, 12 November 2009


Bit late today. Have had a very traumatic morning. Will come on to that in a minute. First of all, for the few of you that are remotely interested, the latest bulletin on "my poncy brother" is not at all good. He's now fully recovered. My hopes of a relapse have been dashed, and he still has two more days of antibiotic tablets to take. As you know, these are being hidden inside big juicy prawns by the "housekeeping staff", who are oblivious to the fact that as soon as they turn their back he spits the pills out!

For the rest of you who are concerned about my well being, then I have some distressing news. There is a rumour going around that "the housekeeping staff" are thinking about putting me on a diet!!!!! They think I am overweight. I rumbled this a couple of days ago, but thought nothing of it, as it came from "the one I don't trust". I know full well, that no one takes any notice of him round here, least of all me, "the pretty one" rules the roost, and she is very gullible. I can twist her round my little finger when necessary.

Talking of fingers, have I told you that both me and "my poncy brother" have got six fingers on each front paw, with toes to match. I'm led to believe that this is a sign of good breeding and indicates a rich and diverse family tree - well that's what my dad told me, and he should know - he reckoned that just by taking his socks off, he could count up to twenty four, and do you know what, he is right - I don't know of any other cat that can count beyond twenty.
Anyway, I digress, back to the serious matter in hand. This morning, "the pretty one" also said I was getting fat - I knew I should never have let her pick me up - won't make that mistake again! I can't be fat, I can still squeeze through the cat flap, although I do feel they have made it smaller recently, either that or there has been a some serious subsidence. The picture below is me exiting stage right through the flap. Despite what "my stupid sister" says, it was not necessary to use a crowbar and half a tin of axle grease to get me out!!
I have researched the matter on the internet and found an article that says over 40 % of cats are obese. Who writes this rubbish, it certainly wasn't a cat. How on earth do humans know the ideal weight of a cat. As we all know, the bigger the better, must keep our strength up. If a cat had written this, the conclusion would have been that 60% of cats are underweight and need extra prawns. My lot are obsessed with diets, "the pretty one" in particular. Always going on about not eating this or can't eat that, and then she goes and eats a plate of chips or a piece of cake - a mystery to me.
The final straw was when I heard "the one that I don't trust" mention exercise - well as you can imagine, I came over all faint, I mean what do they think I am - a dog or something. Walking from the settee to the bedroom between naps, back and forth to the food bowl, and an occasional stroll round the estate are more than adequate for even the most energetic cat. I'm out of breath just thinking about it.
Now you can see why I am a bit late today - I have been out making contingency plans. I've discovered that next doors dog, the nasty yappy little Jack Russell, has a bowl of food in the garden. I have made a note of the time he gets taken for his daily walk. Beggars can't be choosers, and I'm quite partial to a dog biscuit occasionally. The other hope is Quasimodo, who I told you about yesterday - he has a bowl of food in his garden shed, and the door is often open - rich pickings here I think, although prawns may be a bit thin on the ground.
Well that's it for another day. Feel free to send food parcels, preferably ones containing prawns of course. What a life! AlbertTheCat.

Wednesday, 11 November 2009

The Bells, The Bells !!!

Morning readers. Our worst fears have come to fruition. "My poncy brother" - I can't stand him, looks like he is going to make a full recovery from his swollen head. He is almost back to normal this morning - well what qualifies as normal in his case. I now know that the course of antibiotics he is on lasts for another four days. Four more days of big fat juicy king prawns. It is driving me mad. Perhaps he will choke on one of them. It was terrible this morning - a little baby prawn for me, another little baby prawn for "my stupid sister" and then a huge great big one for him. "The housekeeping staff "are really daft. They don't realise that as soon as they are not looking he spits the tablets out under a bush. This is a picture of me in the garden looking thoroughly hacked off upon learning that he is on the mend. "My Stupid sister" was none too impressed either! Anyway, enough of this. Today I thought I would tell you about an acquaintance of mine, a cat that lives five or six houses away. A most strange looking tabby thing with stripes on it - never seen anything like it before, not even up at the council dump where I was born. I can assure you there were some very peculiar cats there!! I call it Quasimodo, because it wears a collar with a bell on it. You can hear him coming from miles away. He is as mad as a hatter - all the time he just keeps repeating, "the bells, the bells......", over and over again. He is as deaf as a post as well, ringing in the ears I expect. Ho Ho! What is really cruel, or funny, depending on how you look at it, is that when he was a lad he had the misfortune to be run over by a pushbike, so now he thinks he is being chased by a gang of demented invisible cyclists continuously ringing their bicycle bells.

In one of his rare lucid moments he told me that years ago he had decimated the local bird population and this is why his owners make him wear a bell. I have subsequently discovered that he was fitted-up for the crime - an old black tom was in the frame, and in order to get off the hook, planted a couple of dead sparrows in Quasimodo's bed. The gullible owners went for it - hook, line and sinker, hence the bell. In one of the gardens nearby there is one of those wind chime things. Just for a bit of sport you understand, when we hear him coming along the back wall, me and "my poncy brother" love nothing more than to pat the chime thing with our paws. Poor old Quasimodo is so far gone, he thinks the invisible bikes are coming at him from all sides - oh how we laugh!

They tried to put a collar on me once. For fleas apparently - what a cheek. I soon got rid of it. "My stupid sister" said it was a nice colour and that blue suited me. She had a red one and really liked it, prancing about and showing off to anyone that bothered to take notice. The smile was soon wiped off her face when they put a lampshade round her head for a couple of weeks - now that really was funny. I'll tell you about that another day.

That's your lot for today. Off to see if I can scrounge a snack before lunch. A few big juicy king prawns would be nice - perhaps if I got put on antibiotics - now there's a thought!!! What a life! Albert the Cat.

Tuesday, 10 November 2009

Return of Old Big Head

Things have gone down hill since yesterday's good news. You will recall I told you that "my poncy brother" had a swollen head and was booked in to see "the bloke who sticks needles in us once a year" - I hate him! Well, would you believe it, he did not have to go to hospital as we were all hoping, and he is now back home. I am very disappointed - if they had kept him in for a few days I could have had his prawns. Apparently, he has got an abscess and has been prescribed a course of antibiotics.

It gets worse. To get the tablets down him, "the housekeeping staff" are hiding them inside great big juicy prawns. So not only is he getting the regular prawns that I have to put up with, but twice a day he is getting king prawns - terrible isn't it. Where is the justice in that? "The bloke who sticks needles in us once a year" says it was probably caused by a bite or scratch that became infected. I reckon it was nothing of the sort - I reckon his head just swelled up naturally to match his own opinion of himself. I can't stand him!

He is really making the most of it though - he has "the pretty one" eating out of his hand which is ironic really, as he is quite literally eating out of hers - all he has to do is give her that self-pitying look and she feeds him extra prawns. It is beneath contempt. She is so gullible though and being such a deceitful cat he is milking it for all it is worth. The only good news is that his head is still swollen - it looks gruesome. Here are before and after pictures - you see what I mean?
I find this hilarious, especially as he fancies himself as a pretty boy. I'm amazed he has the nerve to go out. I very kindly offered to make two holes in a brown paper bag so he could wear that - a noble gesture I thought, but one that was thrown straight back in my face. How rude, typical of him though. I ought to be getting king prawns as well. It is very cruel making me sit here and watch him bolt them down. "The housekeeping staff" need to be careful. What they don't realise is that through the offices of Twitter, I have a direct line to the good people at the Cats Protection League. By the way, you can follow me on Twitter as well - look for AlbertTheCat.
Here's a funny thing - something I have observed every time they come back from visiting "the bloke who sticks needles in us once a year" - I hate him. "The one I don't trust" always waves a piece of paper about, mutters a few strange words, then quotes a large number in pounds sterling, before using the term "money for old rope". I wonder what this is all about. Can anyone enlighten me!
Well that's my lot for today. All we can hope for is that "my poncy brother" has a relapse, but knowing my luck he will make a swift recovery. To show my displeasure, I think I will go outside and find something unpleasant to bring in and deposit under the bed. I'll probably dig up a few plants while I am out there. What a life! Albert the Cat.

Monday, 9 November 2009

Old Big Head!

I'm back you will no doubt be pleased to hear. I finally managed to extract the new password from my stupid sister. I had to bribe her with a couple of my prawns. You'll never guess what she changed it to - BarmyBert. What a cheek! If only I could catch her, I would wring her neck, but what with my old war wound, which I don't like to talk about, she is too nimble.

To avoid a repeat of this most distressing incident, I have now written the new password - Prawns4me, where she will never find it - on a post it note stuck to the computer screen.

There has been a very interesting development here this morning. I have just heard "the one I don't trust" booking an appointment for my poncy brother Tabby, to go and see "the bloke who sticks needles in us once a year" - I hate him! I thought he looked a bit odd when we were being served with our breakfast prawns this morning. His head has swollen up to the size of a football! I've always said he was big headed, but now he actually is.

To make matters worse, the cat flap has been shut to prevent Tabby doing a runner before his appointment, and I have been unceremoniously thrown out into the garden! How, I hear you ask, can Bert be writing his blog when he is in the garden? A very good question, and one to which I can provide no suitable answer.

On a far more serious note, the prawn serving was very meagre this morning. Perhaps if my poncy brother has to go into hospital there will be more for me tomorrow. We live in hope.

To brighten up today's posting, I thought I would show you a couple of family pictures. The first one is of my great uncle Porky. He was a fine cat, and as you can see, he took great umbrage if anyone dared to disturb him while he was eating. He taught me a lot! The other picture is of my French cousins who since my new found fame have started writing to me. I expect the begging letters will arrive any day now. One is called Fizz and the other Tyson - not very French is it? I've no idea which is which, they are like two peas in a pod.
That's the lot for today. Come back tomorrow, and I will let you know how Old Big Head got on. What a life! Albert the Cat.

Saturday, 7 November 2009

He fell off the wall!

Hello. Who is this you all ask. Well it's me – Ginger Tail, Bert’s clever little sister. That brother of mine is not as bright as he makes out, he’s quite dim really. He left his log-in details on a post-it note stuck to the computer screen, so I have logged in and changed his password. Hee hee!! Bert is furious and can’t understand what is going on. Before I let him in on the little jape, I thought I would write his blog for him today.

Have you read the cock and bull story from yesterday – total fantasy, not a word of truth. You can always tell when Bert is not telling the truth - his lips move!

Shall I tell you what really happened? Well actually, he did break his leg, but as for the ferocious dogs, what a joke, he runs away from squirrels!

When they took him to see “the bloke who sticks needles in us once a year” (I hate him as well) do you know what he said? He said that Bert had probably lost his footing and fallen off of a wall – how clumsy is that? A cat falling from a wall and breaking a leg – oh how Tabby and me laughed. Bert certainly made the most of it. He was confined to a cage in the lounge for a few months, and as you know, “the pretty one”, who is a little gullible to say the least, kept feeding him prawns. Prawns for breakfast, prawns for lunch, prawns for tea, prawns for supper – I’m surprised he didn’t get sick of them. Whenever the housekeeping staff went out, me and my brother Tabby would amuse ourselves by running our claws along the edge of the cage and pinching his food through the bars – this really annoyed him – oh how we laughed!

While I have the chance I thought I would show you some pictures of me - aren't I cute. I am definitely the cutest cat here despite what my daft brother Bert thinks.

I expect Bert will be back tomorrow, although if he is still as bad tempered as he was earlier I may keep the joke going a bit longer. Remember now, don't believe a word he says! Bye for now. Ginger Tail.

Thursday, 5 November 2009

The Battle of Wounded Knee

I'm absolutely livid - internet has been down for two days. No tweeting and no blog. I blame the housekeeping staff. They have very little to do, and if they can't even sort out simple things like the internet, then I have grave concerns over their suitability for more important tasks like maintaining a regular and plentiful supply of prawns. Anyway things seem to be OK this morning - prawns on time and internet working.

Today I will tell you about my old war wound, I don’t like to talk about it really. Considering the grace, agility and speed with which I move, it is hard to believe that not that long ago, I was laid up with a badly broken leg - front offside, should you ask. How did this happen I hear you cry.

Well, it was a pleasant enough evening, and after a good supper of biscuits and prawns, washed down by a nice drink from the drain, I wandered off to do the rounds before bed. All of a sudden I heard this terrible howling and hissing coming from the end of the road. I rushed to see what was going on, only pausing to see my poncy, cowardly brother heading in the opposite direction. An awful site greeted me - a pack of wild and ferocious dogs had set upon my stupid sister. There were four Alsatians, three pit bulls, a Rottweiler as big as a bear and countless others, all under the command of the nasty, yappy little Jack Russell who lives next door. Without a moments thought for my own safety I dived into the melee.

As a diversionary tactic, I went straight for the Rottweiler and sunk my claws into his neck. The whole pack turned on me allowing my stupid sister to run for cover under a bush. I single handedly fought them off, and as the battle raged, one by one they slunk away with there tails between their legs. Two of us were left standing - me and the Rottweiler. We fought tooth and claw, and as we rolled in the blood and the dirt and the gore, the weight of the huge beast was too much, and I felt my leg snap. I summoned up one last effort and went for his throat - I clung on for all I was worth and eventually the monster let out a pitiful yelp, whereupon I released my vice like grip and it scuttled away.

All was quiet, I pulled my sister from under the bush, grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and then on three legs, and over five garden walls I dragged her back home before collapsing exhausted.

When the housekeeping staff discovered me they were horrified. With blue lights flashing, I was rushed to see the "bloke who sticks needles in me once a year" - I hate him. Well to cut a long story short, I was operated on there and then - metal plates and bolts were inserted into my leg. It was touch and go for a while, but I pulled through. I was in intensive care for two months and then confined to barracks for another couple before being able to return to normal duties. How about that for a heart warming tale of courage and bravery!! I don’t talk about it much you understand. The two pictures show me just after the op, and then in intensive care.

Expect there will be more fireworks tonight. I would advise all other cats to settle down under the bed. Personally I will be sitting on the back wall enjoying the festivities.

Well that's certainly enough excitement for one day. I'm off, but I will return tomorrow. What a life! Albert the Cat.

Wednesday, 4 November 2009

The beautiful game

Hello again one and all. The housekeeping staff both went out early this morning, and I had to wait until they returned to get my prawns, but at least there were a reasonable amount of them, unlike yesterday. I have decided to stay here a while longer to see if things improve. This is their last chance though.

As promised, I have a real treat for you today. Before that, there is something I need to nip in the bud. Yesterday I posted a picture of me and my stupid sister as youngsters. When my twitter followers saw this, I had numerous tweets telling me how cute my stupid sister was. This really takes the cat biscuit. Let's get this straight once and for all - there is only one cute cat in this house, and that is me. Nowadays I am considered handsome, rather than cute, but that is by the by.

Now that I have got that off of my chest, let us proceed to today's showstopper. When I was a lad, I was a pretty tasty footballer. To show you what I mean, here is a video clip of me playing with my poncy brother and Little Tortoiseshell.

How about that then. I imagine you are impressed. Bound to be. Did you spot the last ditch tackle at the end to prevent a certain goal - and what about the dribbling at the start. As for my poncy brother -typical of him, always fouling, even tugging Little Tortoiseshell's tail. Definite red card. I could have been a professional you know - oh yes, I turned down numerous offers. I couldn't go and leave my poncy brother and stupid sister you see. They've always held me back. What might have been? Shame about the sound on the video, I would turn it down if I were you - "the one that I don't trust" is technically incompetent, and has no idea how to work the camera - sometimes he even struggles to tie his own shoelaces! Let me know what you think of the videos. If you like them, there are a couple more I can show you.

Well that's the lot for today. No idea what I am going to write about tomorrow, but I expect I will come up with something. Off for a snack and a nice nap before tea. What a life! Albert the Cat.

PS - Don't forget, you can follow me on Twitter under AlbertTheCat.

Tuesday, 3 November 2009

Strange human customs

The prawns were a bit thin on the ground again this morning. If things continue like this I may have to consider making alternative arrangements. I have been looking around, and I think there is a woman who lives opposite that has taken a bit of a shine to me. Not surprising. Like any sensible cat, I think it is wise to keep all options open.

Well what shall I write about today? All this thinking is tiring me out. I may have to take a rest soon. Before that, perhaps I will tell you a little about a rather strange human custom I have observed. Whenever "the one that I don't trust" goes out on his own, "the pretty one" always says to him "don't drink too much". This is said in a stern and threatening manner, particularly so whenever he goes to watch football with his friends. Now, no one likes a drink more than me, so I can't see what all the fuss is about. I would be most grateful if any other cats out there can shed further light on this.

I have fresh water laid on everyday by the housekeeping staff - we have it on draught at our place. I tend not to drink too much of that though, as I prefer real water - it has much more flavour. In my experience the best sources are the drain, rain puddles and the rusty old watering can in the back garden. A little tip for other cats - if you can get it, then my absolute favourite is Tomorite. They pour this on to their tomato plants in the belief that it will make them grow bigger (the tomatoes that is!). If you time things right, about a minute or two after they have watered them the stuff trickles out of the bottom of the pot. Well, a few swigs of this and I reckon I can fly - I managed it once and scared the hell out of a passing sparrow, unfortunately I had a limp for the next fortnight - not sure if the two things are connected! I doubt it.

By the way, mentioning football - have I told you about my prowess as a youngster? I could have been a star. I will show you film tomorrow of me in action - you will be amazed. To brighten things up a bit I thought I would show you a picture of me and my stupid sister as youngsters. Aren't I cute!
Well that's the lot for today - I'm off out for a drink. What a life! Albert the Cat.

Monday, 2 November 2009

My poncy brother

It has been an exhausting day. The housekeeping staff decided to vacuum the place this morning. It has taken me ages to get things how I like them and then they go and do that. To make matters worse, it makes an appalling din - I had only just got back to sleep after breakfast (a very small handful of prawns), when it starts up. Fortunately the sun was out, so I went for a nap on top of the shed.

After telling you yesterday how I got my name, and previously how my stupid sister got hers, I suppose I also ought to tell you how my poncy brother got his. I doubt if you are that interested! His name is Tabby, and guess what - yes you've got it, he is a common or garden tabby. End of story really. However, there is a little twist in the tale - I would like to twist his tail, ho ho. As you know by now he is a deceitful, self serving, sycophantic cat whose only aim in life is to ingratiate himself with "the pretty one". The kowtowing is beneath contempt. Unbelievably, "the pretty one" is so gullible she falls for it every time. Just so you can see what I mean, here are a couple of pictures of him, in his typical "cute and adorable" pose - stomach churning I call it.

Now, the other day, I was sniffing around, and I came across some paperwork about our vaccinations, presumably provided by "the bloke who sticks needles in me once a year" - I hate him! Mine and Ginger Tail's all seemed to be in order, but the name on my poncy brother's was - LEO. My shock quickly turned to delight, I mean Leo, that is no name for a cat. I have had great fun telling him and of course he is deeply ashamed that his dark secret is out. I told my stupid sister, all the other cats in the neighbourhood, and even next door's dog - all in strictest confidence you understand. I haven't laughed so much in ages.

Well that's your lot for today, I am a very busy cat. I've got to go and start putting the hairs back on the furniture. What a life. Albert the Cat.

Sunday, 1 November 2009

Lazy Sunday

Woke up early this morning - one look out of the window and went straight back to bed - it is tipping down. Think I will take it easy today. I was going to write about my poncy brother, but I will leave that until tomorrow - don't want to overdo it, and Sunday is a day of rest. What I will do is tell you how I got my name.

There were five of us in the litter, with myself being the pick. Not only was I the most handsome kitten, I was also the largest. The housekeeping staff in their complete ignorance christened me Big Bertha - I have no idea why. By the way, I was also the cutest and most adorable kitten, despite what my poncy brother says. Well after a few months, "the one I don't trust" took us to see a person I now know as "the bloke who sticks needles in me once a year" - I hate him. I will tell you more about him but that will have to wait for another day. Any way once the stupid housekeeping staff were enlightened, Bertha became Bert - I prefer Albert as I think it is far more suited to a cat of my status. I thought you might like to see a picture of the five of us as youngsters.You can see us here interviewing one of the housekeeping staff - "the one I don't trust" as it happens. From left to right you can see - Ginger Tail (my stupid sister), my very good self, Spotty, Tabby (my poncy brother) and Little Tortoiseshell. Not much originality in the other names is there?

Well that's my lot for today. The sun has come out. I may go for a walk, but then again I might have a nap instead. What a life! Albert the Cat.