tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86818625526500941022024-03-14T08:16:04.744+00:00Albert The Cat's BlogPearls of wisdom from the feline world!Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.comBlogger123125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-6122041032283672832010-08-04T16:34:00.025+01:002010-08-04T21:17:59.005+01:00Dis-order in the Court!"<span style="font-style: italic;">Right Ginger Tail, just pass me my funny wig and help me into my nice red robes.</span>" I said.<br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">Yes my lord</span><span style="font-style: italic;">, they make you look like Santa Claus"</span> replied Ginger Tail. "<span style="font-style: italic;">We'll have less of your cheek!"</span> I said sternly. I took a quick look in the mirror, and being most impressed with what I saw, I instructed my servant to lead on. Ginger Tail opened the door, and walked ahead of me. As I entered the room, wise Old Black Tom, the Clerk of the Court, stood up and announced in a very solemn voice,<br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">All rise for Lord Albert The Cat.</span>”<br />Everyone in the court stood up and I strolled to my throne behind the big bench in the front. There was a nice fluffy cushion on it, ideal for a quick snooze. I was patting it down with my paws when I heard the words of Old Black Tom,<br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">The court is now in session, pray silence for Lord Chief Justice Albert The Cat.</span>”<br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">I thought it was Santa Claus</span>" said a voice from the back that sounded suspiciously like Tabby.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TFmbQUdFd3I/AAAAAAAAArI/sWII1fcxekE/s1600/GTservant.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 245px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TFmbQUdFd3I/AAAAAAAAArI/sWII1fcxekE/s400/GTservant.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501599124480685938" border="0" /></a>I nodded, and everyone sat down.<br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">Righto</span>” I said and asked Old Black Tom what was the first case. After all, he is a very clever cat, and knows everything.<br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">No idea" </span><span>he replied.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> "Sorry m'lud" </span><span>he said,</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> "just my little joke!"</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Pray continue"</span> I said.<br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">With pleasure m’lud</span>” he replied. <span style="font-style: italic;">"Today’s case is the people, well the cats actually, versus the one Bert does not trust. Will the Sergeant at Arms please bring up the prisoner.”</span><br />There was a scuffling noise at the foot of the stairs, followed by much hissing and growling. Eventually, Riley, the biggest ginger cat you ever did see, dragged the one Bert does not trust into the dock.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TFmbYvNs9CI/AAAAAAAAArQ/cOjeFlIb2-4/s1600/scales.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 153px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TFmbYvNs9CI/AAAAAAAAArQ/cOjeFlIb2-4/s320/scales.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501599269102875682" border="0" /></a>“<span style="font-style: italic;">I will now ask the Clerk of the Court to read out the charge sheet</span>” I said.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Thank you m’lud</span><span style="font-style: italic;">. The one Bert does not trust - you are charged that yesterday, with malice aforethought, you did grievously and wilfully, and with premeditated intent fail to provide Albert The Cat with a plentiful and tasty portion of prawns for his breakfast – How do you plead,"</span> said Old Tom, with all the dignity he could muster.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Not guilty m’lud”</span> replied the one I don't trust.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“What!!!”</span> I exclaimed. <span style="font-style: italic;">“Not guilty, how ridiculous. Can we charge him with perjury and contempt of court as well?”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Er, a splendid idea m’lud, but I am afraid there are no legal precedents for such action. Stupid as it may seem, the defendant does have the right to enter a plea of not guilty,"</span> said Old Tom sagely.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Shame”</span> I said, <span style="font-style: italic;">“let’s press on, I am very keen not to waste any more time, I’m looking forward to the sentencing!”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Er, excuse me m’lud,”</span> interjected the Clerk, <span style="font-style: italic;">“but don’t you mean the verdict?”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Oh yes, of course, a tiresome formality we have to go along with”</span> I replied, <span style="font-style: italic;">“very well can I please ask, who is appearing for the prosecution.”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“I am m’lud”</span> said a scruffy looking brown cat with one eye and half an ear missing. It was none other than Mad Harry, <span style="font-style: italic;">“and I will be ably assisted by my deputy, Slasher Sid QC, and may I say m’lud how well you are looking, and how splendid you look in your nice red robes.”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Most kind,”</span> I replied, “<span style="font-style: italic;">and who is fighting the lost cause, oops sorry, slip of the tongue, who is appearing for the defence?”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“I am”</span> said the one I don’t trust, <span style="font-style: italic;">“I am defending myself."</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Silence in Court”</span> I cried.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Er, excuse me m’lud"</span>, said the Clerk, <span style="font-style: italic;">"but outrageous as it may seem, he is allowed to do that.”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Oh very well then, just get on with it”</span> I said in frustration.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“I call upon the prosecution to open their case," </span>said the Clerk.<br /><br />Mad Harry QC rose to his feet – <span style="font-style: italic;">“I would like to call my first witness, Lord Albert The Cat.”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Objection”</span> shouted the one I don’t trust.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Overruled”</span> I said, and proceeded to take the witness stand.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Please put your paw on the bible, and repeat after me” </span>said the clerk, “<span style="font-style: italic;">I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“I’m the damn judge”</span> I said, <span style="font-style: italic;">“of course I’m going to tell the truth, my word is law round here you know. What a lot of nonsense.”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Er, yes m’lud, but I’m afraid it is another tiresome formality we have to go through”</span> he replied.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Very well”</span> I said, <span style="font-style: italic;">“then can we get to the sentencing, er… verdict I mean?”</span><br />Mad Harry QC approached the witness box – <span style="font-style: italic;">“m’lud, on the morning in question, you rose from you slumbers quite naturally expecting your prawns to be served - can you please tell the court precisely what happened next.”</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“I most certainly can,”</span> I said, <span style="font-style: italic;">“the one I don’t trust, whose primary responsibility it is to care for me, went out and completely forgot the said prawns”</span><br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">And can you identify that person in this courtroom?”</span> said Mad Harry QC.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“It’s him, the one in the dock” </span>I said pointing at the one I don't trust.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“No further questions m’lud, I rest my case”</span> said Mad Harry.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Would the defence like to cross examine the witness” </span>asked the Clerk.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“I most certainly would”</span> said the one I don’t trust.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TFmbIpUzVnI/AAAAAAAAArA/eJuKZVwsVCQ/s1600/Lordalbert.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 380px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TFmbIpUzVnI/AAAAAAAAArA/eJuKZVwsVCQ/s400/Lordalbert.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501598992644134514" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">“Silence in Court”</span> I shouted, “<span style="font-style: italic;">never heard of such a thing, the defendant asking the judge questions. We’re not having that in my court. As there are no further witnesses, I will do my summing up for the jury before we adjourn for a light lunch of tuna and fresh salmon, and then return for the sentencing. Firstly, may I congratulate the prosecution team, led by Mad Harry QC, for the comprehensive and compelling case they have laid before us today. Their painstaking research and attention to detail clearly justifies the enormous fees they will be charging. Now, members of the jury, when you retire to consider your verdict, there is one thing that should be uppermost in your mind – the unimpeachable integrity of the chief witness. This is an open and shut case! In the unlikely event, that there are still any doubts in your mind, I will ask Mad Harry and Slasher Sid to sit in with you to advise on points of law if you get my drift. Right, that’s my lot, I’m off for a spot of lunch.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“I think it is all going rather well so far” </span>I said to Ginger Tail as we prepared to go back into court.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Yes m’lud”</span> she replied, <span style="font-style: italic;">"have you got a nice present for me in your big sack?"</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Ladies, gentlemen and cats of the jury, have you reached a verdict.” </span>Said the Clerk.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Yes we have”</span> said the foreman, who just happened to be my poncy brother Tabby.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Will the defendant please rise”</span> said the Clerk, upon which point, Riley dug his claws into the leg of the one I don’t trust and he stood up sharply.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty”</span><br />Tabby said “<span style="font-style: italic;">we find the defendant............................ covered in hair!" </span>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz........<span style="font-style: italic;"><br />"That's a strange verdict" </span>I thought, as I was unceremoniously shoved off of my throne.<span style="font-style: italic;"> "The chair, it's damn well covered in hair already, we only cleaned the place up yesterday. I bet that Bert is the main culprit"</span> said the one I don't trust tersely. I woke up with a shock as I landed on the floor. Where am I? What's happening? Oh no, it was all a dream, just a dream. What a disappointment. Why did he wake me up just as we were getting to the good bit.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TFmbYvNs9CI/AAAAAAAAArQ/cOjeFlIb2-4/s1600/scales.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 148px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TFmbYvNs9CI/AAAAAAAAArQ/cOjeFlIb2-4/s320/scales.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501599269102875682" border="0" /></a>Well, that's my lot for today. To finish on a lighter note, did I tell you about the cross eyed judge? He said to the first defendant, <span style="font-style: italic;">“how do you plead?”</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">“Not guilty”</span> replied the second defendant. <span style="font-style: italic;">“I wasn’t talking to you”</span> the judge said. <span style="font-style: italic;">“I never said a word”</span> replied the third defendant. Ho Ho Ho..... What do you mean you don't like it. Try this one then - the defendant said to the judge, <span style="font-style: italic;">“I don't recognize this court!”</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">“Why not?”</span> asked the Judge. <span style="font-style: italic;">“Because you’ve had it decorated since I was here last.” </span>Ho Ho Ho..... oh well, please yourselves. What a Life! <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(hanging judge)<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Cat</span><span style="font-style: italic;">.</span>Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-79375965636278339722010-07-30T18:25:00.015+01:002010-07-30T22:53:53.778+01:00Curiosity and the Cat!I’m a bit annoyed today. “<span style="font-style: italic;">You mean you are not your normal cheery self?</span>” Far from it, in fact I’m downright fed up, but thank you for your concern. What has caused this distressing state of affairs I hear you ask. Well, we’ve had visitors. As regular readers will know, I hate visitors – without fail they cause problems, and this lot were no exception.<br /><br />The tell tale signs were there from early this morning. The housekeeping staff were rushing around arguing with each other as they tidied the place up. My breakfast prawns were an afterthought. The one I don’t trust hardly bothered to thaw them out for me. What!!! I hear you cry, Bert has to make do with frozen prawns rather than freshly caught ones? Yes, I’m afraid standards are slipping. What is this world coming to? Apparently the pretty one is having a few friends round for coffee. Anyway, after I had crunched through the prawns, the vacuum cleaner came out. Dreadful thing, gets on my nerves. It really sucks! "<span style="font-style: italic;">You must be in a bad mood Bert, that’s a rotten joke even for you!</span>" What, who said that, how rude!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TFMP_76PdJI/AAAAAAAAAq4/93HP2Hh4Nfw/s1600/rhubarb2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 326px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TFMP_76PdJI/AAAAAAAAAq4/93HP2Hh4Nfw/s400/rhubarb2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499757161037657234" border="0" /></a>I took this as my cue to depart. I went for a nice snooze under the rhubarb tree, with the aim of keeping a low profile until after the visitors had cleared off. I bumped into Tabby and Ginger Tail, and told them what was going on. Ginger Tail was most put out. “<span style="font-style: italic;">I spent ages putting hair all over the settee last night</span>” she said, “<span style="font-style: italic;">I just get the place just how I like it, and then they go and clean it up.</span>”<br /><br />Some time later, I was awakened from my slumber by the sound of chatting and laughing coming from the house. “<span style="font-style: italic;">They’ve arrived</span>” said Tabby who had been sleeping next to me. “<span style="font-style: italic;">Sounds like it, think I’ll stay out here,</span>” I replied. “<span style="font-style: italic;">Very wise</span>” said Tabby. After a while, curiosity got the better of me. You know what curiosity did to the cat don’t you! “<span style="font-style: italic;">I am very curious</span>” I said to Tabby. He agreed, “<span style="font-style: italic;">you are without doubt a very curious cat</span>” he replied. We decided to go and investigate. We silently crept in through the cat flap and took up station out of sight under the table in the lounge. Us cats are renowned for our stealth and agility. Not a sound was made, apart that is from the crashing of a vase full of flowers as it fell to the floor after I brushed against the table leg. “<span style="font-style: italic;">I bet it was that Bert</span>” said the pretty one as she rushed to clear up the mess she had caused by precariously balancing said vase on the very edge of the table. Fancy blaming me.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TFMPxVtGm7I/AAAAAAAAAqw/LEhZi-P89k4/s1600/rhubarb3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 347px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TFMPxVtGm7I/AAAAAAAAAqw/LEhZi-P89k4/s400/rhubarb3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499756910263835570" border="0" /></a>By this time Tabby and me had retreated back to the rhubarb tree. A little while later, after the fuss had died down, using all of our guile, we crept back in again. “<span style="font-style: italic;">They won’t notice us this time</span>” I said confidently to Tabby as we squeezed behind the bookcase. “<span style="font-style: italic;">Oh look</span>” said one of the visitors, “<span style="font-style: italic;">there is a big black and white cat behind the bookcase.</span>” Tabby must have given the game away! I recognised one of the visitors – it was the woman from next door, who owns the nasty snappy little Jack Russell. Fortunately she had not brought the offending mutt with her. “<span style="font-style: italic;">That black and white one comes into our garden</span>” she said “<span style="font-style: italic;">and my little dog goes mad, he gets quite stressed.</span>” Good, I thought. The other visitor who had spotted me first said, “<span style="font-style: italic;">he is very big isn’t he?</span>” “<span style="font-style: italic;">Do you think so</span>” said the pretty one. “<span style="font-style: italic;">We did try to put him on a diet once, the lite version of his favourite biscuits, but he ate twice as many – I prefer to think of him as nice and cuddly.</span>” Quite right too I thought, we can usually rely on her to stand up for us.<br /><br />Then something dawned on me, the other visitor who keeps referring to me as “big”, is not exactly sylph like herself. I had a good look at her, and I can tell you, she has certainly shifted a few pies in her time. What a cheek, talk about the pot calling the kettle black, and people in glass houses not lobbing bricks! If Captain Ahab was here, I reckon he would be sharpening his harpoon. She’s got more chins than a Chinese phone book. We had heard enough, so me and Tabby wandered off, stopping only for a few biscuits on the way out.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TFMPksHVVhI/AAAAAAAAAqg/NcNebG9M9fc/s1600/rhubarb1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 341px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TFMPksHVVhI/AAAAAAAAAqg/NcNebG9M9fc/s400/rhubarb1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499756692941133330" border="0" /></a>Well, that’s my lot for today. “<span style="font-style: italic;">Fancy knocking the vase over</span>” said Tabby. “<span style="font-style: italic;">I’m just unlucky</span>” I replied. “<span style="font-style: italic;">Black cats are supposed to bring good luck</span>” he said, “<span style="font-style: italic;">but then again, you are only half black, perhaps the other half of you brings bad luck.</span>” What a load of superstitious nonsense I thought. “<span style="font-style: italic;">I don’t believe in superstitions</span>” I said, as I crossed my fingers and touched wood. What a Life! <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(lucky)<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-62021983195003439972010-07-26T14:58:00.021+01:002010-07-26T20:23:06.948+01:00Writer's Block......Hello again. I'm not really sure why you've all turned up here today. I've got nothing much to say. I think I must be suffering from writer's block, whatever that is. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Thank goodness for that!</span>" What, how rude! We can do without that sort of comment thank you very much! Perhaps I'll just start rambling away, and see where it leads us. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Same as normal then!</span>" I don't believe it, we can do without him as well - it's Tabby, my poncy brother. I thought he was asleep in the vegetable patch - amongst his intellectual equals! Ho Ho Ho... Bear with me while I get rid of him.............................. That's better, now where were we?<br /><br />Did you all have a nice weekend? I had a very quiet one, nothing much happened. I spent some time thinking, must have been all of five minutes. It does us all good to reflect now and again I pondered as I sat in front of the mirror. What's that awful grating noise I hear you ask - I'm afraid it's the sound of a barrel being scraped. I've no sympathy for you, it's your own fault for still being here -I did warn you that this might be a rather thin offering. I'm surprised you've got this far.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TE2v53QAOcI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/iZiwGJkaRrk/s1600/outside.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 285px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TE2v53QAOcI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/iZiwGJkaRrk/s400/outside.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498244128707721666" border="0" /></a>I suppose, there was one thing of note that happened. Ginger Tail, my stupid sister had been scratching a lot recently, and it hadn't gone unnoticed. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I think we need to flea her</span>" said the pretty one. "<span style="font-style: italic;">We should probably do the lot of them</span>" added the one I don't trust in a somewhat menacing manner. I was off like a robber's dog, if you'll pardon the expression, followed closely by Tabby. We sat outside the back door to watch the forthcoming entertainment. Ginger Tail was too daft to realise what was happening and continued to sleep soundly on the settee. The one I don't trust, crept up and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, and despite much hissing and scratching - mainly from him, he soon had her in a headlock. The pretty one squeezed some evil smelling potion on to the back of her neck. Ginger Tail's neck that is, not her own neck you understand - I hope that's clear! When he released her, she spat at him, Ginger Tail that is, and then bolted out through the cat flap and hid in the Chrysanthemumumums, Chrysanthemumumums, damn and blast, I'll try again, Chrysanthemumumums....., stupid name! "<span style="font-style: italic;">Chrysanthemums, I think you mean</span>" said Tabby in a condescending voice. "<span style="font-style: italic;">That's easy for you to say</span>" I replied. I hate him, I really do! Anyway, she hid in the yellow flowers before taking up residence behind the watering can.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TE2wC9ao6bI/AAAAAAAAAqY/xv1WwMCa86k/s1600/catch.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 256px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TE2wC9ao6bI/AAAAAAAAAqY/xv1WwMCa86k/s400/catch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498244284981766578" border="0" /></a>Meanwhile back in the house, the one I don't trust couldn't understand why me and Tabby had shot off before he could do us as well. He really has got no idea, I mean I understand everything he says - does he think I'm thick? There's no need for you to answer that one! He was making idle threats about catching me and Tabby the next morning. Well, let me tell you this, you've got to be up pretty early in the morning to catch Bert!! "<span style="font-style: italic;">About eleven 'o' clock should do it</span>" said Tabby. What a cheek!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TE2vzRV2fBI/AAAAAAAAAqI/YeVR1i1eSkY/s1600/early.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 251px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TE2vzRV2fBI/AAAAAAAAAqI/YeVR1i1eSkY/s400/early.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498244015452486674" border="0" /></a>Well, that's my lot for today. I told you there wasn't much to talk about. Oh, one minor event I should mention in passing - it's the pretty one's birthday today, so I suppose I should wish her many happy returns. No idea how old she is, let's just say twenty nine, that should keep me in her good books, and ensure extra prawns. Mind you, don't they reckon that one cat year is the equivalent of seven of their years? Or is it the other way round? No, I think I'm right, so that would make her 29 x 7, which equals, err...... nine times seven, err...... three down carry six, err..... well, lets just say very old in cat years. Mind you though, it's not all bad - statistically speaking, those who have the most birthdays live longest! What a life! <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">AlbertThe</span>(thinking)<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-30598649244881088312010-07-22T15:51:00.012+01:002010-07-22T20:05:45.339+01:00Albert The Great........Welcome back. I'm still glowing in the success of <a href="http://albertthecat.blogspot.com/2010/07/award-winning-bert.html">my award earlier in the week</a>, when I was voted the greatest cat of all time in the entire universe, or something like that. Firstly today, I'd like to thank all those who have sent notes congratulating me on my success. However, words are cheap, and the lack of prawns has been duly noted! Anyway, in my current benevolent mood, I am prepared to forgive this oversight.<br /><br />My new found celebrity status set me thinking. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I wouldn't do that if I were you, there's no telling where it will end!</span>" Who said that, how rude. Perhaps I am the greatest cat that has ever lived! Only one thing for it, I will go and have a word with wise Old Black Tom. I found him in his usual place, asleep on the back wall. He is a very clever cat, the fount of all knowledge in fact - there is nothing he does not know. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Who are you?</span>" he asked. That's a good start I thought. "<span style="font-style: italic;">It's me Bert</span>" I said. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Correct!</span>" he replied. See, I told you, not much gets past him. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I would like to know, if I am the most famous Albert of all time</span>" I asked. "<span style="font-style: italic;">A very good question</span>" he said as he dozed off. I gave him a nudge and repeated the question. He sat up and sucked on a thoughtful tooth for what seemed like ages. "<span style="font-style: italic;">No</span>" he said and dozed off again.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TEiUr1tHiCI/AAAAAAAAAp4/v-Jyhaa3KAM/s1600/whatisit.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 341px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TEiUr1tHiCI/AAAAAAAAAp4/v-Jyhaa3KAM/s400/whatisit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496806826077292578" border="0" /></a>When he woke up, he looked around and said "<span style="font-style: italic;">are you still here?</span>" He mumbled something to himself about there being no peas for the wicked. I can only assume he had been dreaming, because I know full well that us cats are not very partial to peas. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I will tell you about other famous Alberts</span>" he said, somewhat reluctantly. What stories he had to tell. I listened intently. Eventually he finished and said that his invoice for half a dozen prawns for the consultancy would be with me shortly, via the good offices of Mad Marry and Slasher Sid. Apparently, they now list accountancy amongst the many other useful services they offer.<br /><br />Now, if you lot out there pay attention, I will tell you a little of what Old Black Tom said. You will have to bear with me a bit, because it got a bit complicated, and I can't remember some of the details, but I will do my best to fill in the gaps. First of all, there was Albert Einstein. Not quite sure what he did, but he did have lots of relatives, I think Tom said relatives. Yes, it must have been relatives, because I know for a fact he had a very famous bother called Frank who was rather a mixed up character.<br /><br />Next, there was an Albert in the 12th century who made a living from cleaning out medieval fireplaces, he was known as Albert The Great. What do you mean, you saw that one coming! He also went by the name of St Albertus Magnus, one of the most universal thinkers of the middle ages, often referred to as "<span style="font-style: italic;">teacher of everything there is to know.</span>" Most appropriate don't you think. A bit like Old Tom.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TEiUyVvkSAI/AAAAAAAAAqA/BvbYPDlR8bM/s1600/jealous.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 248px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TEiUyVvkSAI/AAAAAAAAAqA/BvbYPDlR8bM/s400/jealous.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496806937756715010" border="0" /></a>A bit closer to home, there was a German chap called Albert Hall who married Queen Victoria. He was so famous, they even named a big round building in London after him. The name of the building escapes me for the moment. Herr Hall is not a very German sounding name is it? Reminds me of another German chap who opened a barbers shop - Herr Dryer was his name! "<span style="font-style: italic;">Boo, Boo, rotten joke.</span>" What, who said that? Oh no it's Tabby, my poncy brother, what does he want. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Clear off.</span>" He's just jealous I mean, you can't imagine there being any famous Tabbys can you! "<span style="font-style: italic;">What about Garfield and Puss in Boots then?</span>" That's the final straw, "<span style="font-style: italic;">go on clear off, I won't tell you again.</span>" What a cheek, now where were we? Oh yes, the name Albert originates from Germany, and means noble bright and famous - I'm not making this up you know.<br /><br />Well, that's my lot for today. All this thinking is making my brain hurt. I don't know if we're any the wiser after all that. I didn't realise there were so many famous Berts. One other I've just remembered, Albert the astronaut was the first monkey in space - 1948 apparently, just before ten to eight in the evening. No idea how he got there! Must have climbed a very tall tree I suppose. What a Life!<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> AlbertThe</span>(not so famous)<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-69202734337017543042010-07-19T15:33:00.036+01:002010-07-21T15:21:32.318+01:00The Award Winning Bert.........<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TERpd2cPWlI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/29xtIeUfCwM/s1600/award3.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TERpd2cPWlI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/29xtIeUfCwM/s320/award3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495633406849931858" border="0" /></a>Good day to you all, and what a momentous day it is too. You are all very fortunate to be joining me on such an occasion. You'll never guess what has happened. I've won a gong. The highly respected <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://anipalacademyawards.blogspot.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Anipal</span> Academy</a> have seen fit to bestow upon my good self, the award for "Favourite Blog" and best looking cat (they forgot to mention this bit - presumably there was insufficient room for the inscription) 2010. One can only admire the sound judgement and good taste of such an august body. You can see further details on their website, along with a list of winners of the lesser prizes - <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://anipalacademyawards.blogspot.com/">CLICK HERE</a>.<br /><br />Now, before I continue, you have all probably noticed the error with the trophy. It purports to show a cats paw, but as we all know, pure bred feral cats like what I am, have six toes. Still, just this once, I think we can overlook the slight.<br /><br />Unfortunately I could not attend the international award ceremony in person due to a minor visa problem. I need a rabies jab to get back into the country and I can assure you that's not happening for anybody! I was there in spirit if not body. I will tell you how all this came about. Well, I received a communication from the awards committee telling me of their decision, and that the trophy was en route. I instructed the one I don't trust to keep a look out for the postman. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TERq2gdWbuI/AAAAAAAAApI/HlNcn63GoM8/s1600/award5.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 298px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TERq2gdWbuI/AAAAAAAAApI/HlNcn63GoM8/s320/award5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495634929957367522" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Being absolutely useless, he wasn't at home when it arrived. You can see why I don't trust him. Those faceless sons of fun from the Royal Mail put a little card through the door. Apparently the trophy was so big it would not fit through the letterbox. Anyway, when the one I don't trust returned home, I immediately sent him to collect it. Three days later he decided to make the effort - he really is a hopeless case. Eventually, he returned with a rather modest box <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">addressed</span> to me. It had come all the way from a small place called Canada - no idea where that is. The one I don't trust reckons it is a frozen wasteland inhabited by polar bears and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Eskimos</span>. That reminds me, did I tell you about the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Eskimo</span> who came face to face with a polar bear? Scared stiff of being eaten, he went down on his knees and started to pray. To his amazement, the polar bear knelt down beside him and started praying too. "<span style="font-style: italic;">It's a miracle!</span>" shouted the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Eskimo</span>. The polar bear opened one eye and said "<span style="font-style: italic;">Don't talk while I'm saying grace.</span>" Ho Ho Ho..... I digress, sorry about that.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TEYaGAzWMzI/AAAAAAAAApw/Up_BEV7UkR0/s1600/award4.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 322px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TEYaGAzWMzI/AAAAAAAAApw/Up_BEV7UkR0/s400/award4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496109085849170738" border="0" /></a>I carefully opened the box, and I reckon the one I don't trust was right, Canada must be a cold place - the box was full of bits of white stuff that I can only assume was snow! Perhaps they've included some frozen prawns I thought.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TER0GyoojrI/AAAAAAAAApY/D5f8tcjZjf8/s1600/award8.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 261px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TER0GyoojrI/AAAAAAAAApY/D5f8tcjZjf8/s320/award8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495645105319087794" border="0" /></a>When we finished unwrapping it I searched <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">frantically</span> for the prawns, but to no avail. Despite the anticlimax, I decided that I should have my picture taken for posterity. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TER3DiOU55I/AAAAAAAAApg/5pm2KWwTz0U/s1600/award7.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 256px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TER3DiOU55I/AAAAAAAAApg/5pm2KWwTz0U/s400/award7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495648347909056402" border="0" /></a>We adjourned to the garden for the photo shoot and that poncy brother of mine turned up. You should have seen the look on his face. His eyes were green with envy. "<span style="font-style: italic;">My eyes are always green</span>" said Tabby. "<span style="font-style: italic;">That's beside the point.</span>" I replied. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Surely you've not won this for that awful drivel you write</span>" he said jealously. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Indeed I have</span>" I said proudly, "<span style="font-style: italic;">and let me tell you this, that drivel I write</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> is highly articulate and witty I'll have you know.</span>" That shut him up and he wandered off shaking his head - he finds it hard to argue with a cat with the intellect of like what I've got.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TERpGJabl3I/AAAAAAAAAoA/vwIwMTzf2ug/s1600/award1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TERpGJabl3I/AAAAAAAAAoA/vwIwMTzf2ug/s400/award1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495632999625758578" border="0" /></a>Anyway, we finally got round to the official photograph <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">which</span> you can see above. Limited edition signed copies are available for a very reasonable consideration of half a dozen prawns.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TERpSU8HS_I/AAAAAAAAAoI/69R3yWFQabw/s1600/award2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 232px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TERpSU8HS_I/AAAAAAAAAoI/69R3yWFQabw/s400/award2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495633208878255090" border="0" /></a>I suppose it is beholden upon me on this auspicious occasion to say a few words. Regular readers will know that one of the greatest acceptance speeches of recent times was delivered at the Oscars at the end of last year - <a href="http://albertthecat.blogspot.com/2009/12/better-than-oscars-honest-it-is.html"><span style="font-weight: bold;">CLICK HERE</span></a> for a full transcript. So, I won't bother with all the usual rubbish. No onions round the neck and floods of tears, etc....... So, here goes:-<br /><br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">My Lords, Ladies, Gentlemen, Cats, and I suppose I have to include dogs, apart from that nasty little Jack Russell that lives next door, unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, let me say that the award is a well <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">deserved</span> recognition for the pearls of wisdom that I regularly bestow upon you lot. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"To keep in their good books, I must thank the Academy for recognizing great literary talent like what I've got. At this stage, I should also offer thanks to others who have helped make this moment possible, but I can't think of any. A passing mention is in order to the one I don't trust for the occasional prawn, and for the pretty one for keeping him in order. As for my poncy brother and stupid sister, I just hope they realise how lucky they are to have me looking after them.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />"Finally, a big thank you to my readers for their loyal support - all three of you. To finish, I accept this belated and thoroughly merited award with all the modesty you would expect from a superstar like what I am. You make me feel very humble - whatever that means. Good night and God bless"</span><br /><br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">Blimey, it's really gone to his head.</span>" Who said that - it's that Tabby again. Jealousy is a terrible thing - just ignore him. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Not surprised it's gone to his head, there's plenty of room in there for it!</span>" I don't believe it, that stupid sister of mine has turned up now - ignore her as well! The things I have to put up with.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TESq_GlAFNI/AAAAAAAAApo/IgpQEX567h0/s1600/award6.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 385px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TESq_GlAFNI/AAAAAAAAApo/IgpQEX567h0/s400/award6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495705446373135570" border="0" /></a>Well, that's your lot for today. I'm off for a well earned rest - I need to recharge the batteries so I can return later in the week to offer more subtle insights from the feline world. Do you know, <span>sometimes, I just don't know where I get them from - often I can't wait to wake up in the morning just to find out what I am going to say next. What a Life! <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">AlbertThe</span></span>(modest and humble)<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Cat</span>.<br /></span>Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-14268186050038824792010-07-14T15:06:00.016+01:002010-07-14T17:05:50.412+01:00The Answer is Blowing in the Wind.............Hey man - what day is it? What's happened? Where am I? Where have I been? I've lost a couple of days. I feel terrible. My head feels like it's full of cotton wool. "<span style="font-style: italic;">No change there then.</span>" Who said that? Oh no, it's only Tabby, that poncy brother of mine. He's the last thing I need today. I'll ignore him.<br /><br />Ah now, wait a minute, things are starting to become clearer. The last thing I remember is dozing in the evening sun. The one I don't trust was sitting talking to the pretty one. He had a little pot in his hand which he had brought back from the garden centre. "<span style="font-style: italic;">They'll like that</span>" she said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">it says on the label that it attracts cats</span>." He seemed less than enthused. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Attracts cats! We've already got three of the damn things</span>" he said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">how many more do you want?</span>" She gave him one of her looks! He is very ungrateful at times, after all he doesn't have to live in my house if he doesn't want to.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TD3eUx5IwuI/AAAAAAAAAno/WY6KUPcOTh0/s1600/wayout.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 389px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TD3eUx5IwuI/AAAAAAAAAno/WY6KUPcOTh0/s400/wayout.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493791569033609954" border="0" /></a>He looked around the garden wondering where he should plant it. After a long and thoughtful deliberation, he came up with three or four well reasoned proposals and they discussed the merits of each in great detail. It was then decided by a show of hands, well her hand anyway, that it should be planted somewhere completely different. The pretty one went indoors, and muttering under his breath, he fetched the trowel, dug a little hole and planted it. He watered it, and then followed her indoors.<br /><br />I decided to investigate. The label from the pot was lying on the path - "<span style="font-style: italic;">Catmint</span>" it read. Catmint, Catmint - that's the same as Catnip! Surely not I thought, my very own supply of Catnip. I usually have to pay Mad Harry and Slasher Sid half a dozen prawns for just a few leaves. They control the local supply you see, and that's the going rate in these parts. I sniffed the plant, and gradually things started to get a bit hazy. I felt light headed. Way out man! I chewed on the leaves, and before I knew it I was humming old Grateful Dead songs. No idea who they are? Well, after that it's all a bit of a blur.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TD3ebHcG9DI/AAAAAAAAAnw/CcsigdSM4Mc/s1600/weed.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TD3ebHcG9DI/AAAAAAAAAnw/CcsigdSM4Mc/s320/weed.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493791677896651826" border="0" /></a>I vaguely recall sitting on the back wall wearing a flower behind my ear, with two pink elephants and a unicorn, discussing the meaning of life - don't know where they came from, I've not seen them round here before. I also tried to fly - I was very good at the going down bit, but I think the going up needs more practice. I remember nothing else until I woke up a little while ago. I must have had a psychedelic experience - whatever one of those is. Let this sorry little tale be a warning to you other cats out there. Lay off the catnip - no good will come of it. Remember, just say no!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TD3ehcB4MoI/AAAAAAAAAn4/hnMnn0tf4Vw/s1600/gone.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 281px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TD3ehcB4MoI/AAAAAAAAAn4/hnMnn0tf4Vw/s400/gone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493791786502992514" border="0" /></a>Well, that's my lot for today. Think I'll get rid of temptation, and dig that plant up. Dig it man. Ho Ho Ho... Must be careful not to trip. Ho Ho Ho... It looks like a weed anyway. Ho Ho Ho... "<span style="font-style: italic;">That's enough rotten puns.</span>" What? It's that Tabby again! Just ignore him. I still don't feel too good you know - probably cold turkey, cold turkey, mmmmmmmmm.... I'm really hungry. Do you know how many hippies it take to change a light bulb? Six, one to change the bulb, and five to share the experience man!!!! Peace and love to all, except Tabby. What a Life! <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(zonked out)<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-56663810263102910962010-07-08T15:32:00.013+01:002010-07-08T17:55:13.068+01:00Once Upon a Time, There was this Frog.............Well, where were we? oh yes - you will no doubt all be relieved to know that I managed to get down from that tree where I was marooned. The nasty, snappy little Jack Russell eventually tired itself out what with all that yapping. It was sitting at the bottom panting away, when my pal Riley wandered past. Now regular readers will know that Riley is a somewhat large ginger cat, with the physique of a baby elephant. His <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://albertthecat.blogspot.com/2010/03/beware-of-dog-or-should-that-be-cat.html">previous encounter with the Jack Russell</a> ended with the miserable mutt belly-up in the middle of a rose bush. Fearing a repeat performance the nasty little thing scampered off rather sharpish with it's tail between it's legs.<br /><br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">Hello old boy</span>" said Riley, "<span style="font-style: italic;">I think it's safe for you to come down now.</span>" With some difficulty, me and my poncy brother climbed down the tree. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I'm most deeply obliged</span>" I said to Riley as I arrived at the bottom in a crumpled heap. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Think nothing off it old boy</span>" he replied, "<span style="font-style: italic;">how did you get yourself into such a predicament in the first place?</span>" I recounted the whole sorry tale to Riley, who despite his best efforts found it hard not to laugh. Do you know, us cats find it a lot easier to climb up trees rather than down - that's why sometimes we get stuck up them. It's our claws you see - we dig them in and pull ourselves up. A bit like mountaineers with crampons on their boots. Try the same trick on the way down and see what happens - let's just say you get down a lot quicker than you get up!<br /><br />Riley seemed impressed with my knowledge of mountaineering. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I wonder why the housekeeping staff have the urge to climb mountains</span>" he said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">no self respecting cat would do such a daft thing.</span>" I told him of a telly programme I saw recently about Mount Everest. Years go it was almost impossible to get up the thing, but nowadays all and sundry stroll up. There are concerns about litter strewn all over the place. I reckon they must have installed escalators, and built a Starbucks at base camp. Apparently you can get a Big Mac at the summit. "<span style="font-style: italic;">He does ramble on doesn't he</span>" said Tabby. "<span style="font-style: italic;">All very interesting</span>" said Riley, "<span style="font-style: italic;">but I must be off, I think I hear the can opener. Good day to the pair of you,</span>" and with that he was gone.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TDX-qDRw-aI/AAAAAAAAAng/aGZVQKP0m_Y/s1600/frog2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TDX-qDRw-aI/AAAAAAAAAng/aGZVQKP0m_Y/s400/frog2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491575319035967906" border="0" /></a>When we got back to my garden, a delightful little story was unfolding. Ginger Tail, my stupid sister, was excitedly ferreting about in a bush. She'd only managed to catch a frog - I didn't know she had it in her. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Where did you get it from?</span>" I asked in amazement. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I caught it in the long grass by that new pond just along the road</span>" she said proudly. We had all gathered round to admire her catch when the back door opened and the one I don't trust came marching down the path. He seemed less than impressed when he saw what we had got. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I don't want any of you lot eating it</span>" he said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">it'll only be coughed up in the lounge.</span>" Eating it!! Eating it!! He must think we're French? He obviously thought the thing had croaked, ho ho ho...... just one of my little froggy jokes, as he went and got a trowel to bury it.<br /><br />He was just about to commit the body to the ground - quite moving really, ashes to ashes, dust to dust and all that stuff, when the corpse did actually croak, not once but twice. All four of us jumped back in amazement, and the frog jumped up in the air, clearly annoyed at the prospect of imminent interment. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Blimey, it's alive!</span>" he perceptively observed. The pretty one appeared on the scene, and was soon issuing instructions. The frog was put into a little plastic pot with some wet grass, and left to convalesce. After about an hour, recovery was deemed to be sufficient, and it was decided to take said frog along the road and rehouse him near a little stream called The Thames, that runs nearby. Off they went, clearly savouring one of their few victories over us cats. Oh well, I thought as I dozed off on the settee, you can't win them all - although I usually do.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TDX-kn0MXsI/AAAAAAAAAnY/gqTQs9rLltM/s1600/frog1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TDX-kn0MXsI/AAAAAAAAAnY/gqTQs9rLltM/s400/frog1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491575225764830914" border="0" /></a>A little while later my peaceful slumber was rudely interrupted as the door burst open, and the creature from the black lagoon stormed in. I dived under the stairs, well, you can't be too careful can you. Upon closer inspection, it was the one I don't trust. Something wonderful had happened - he had fallen down the river bank into the mud. If only the tide had been up, he might have been washed away for good. It turns out, the pretty one had made him clamber along the bank to a spot she deemed appropriate for the relaunch of Mr Frog, and he lost his footing. Oh how I laughed. The aroma was foul, as was his mood. The pretty one arrived, and blamed him for the fiasco, he in turn blamed us cats for catching the frog in the first place, and the frog croaked away quite happily in it's new home.<br /><br />Well, that's my lot for today. I think you will all agree, a charming little tale. I love a happy ending. Did you here about the chap who went into a French restaurant, looked at the menu and said "<span style="font-style: italic;">waiter, have you got frog's legs?</span>" "<span style="font-style: italic;">Oh yes sir</span>" the waiter replied. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Well hop over here and take the order!</span>" the chap said. What do you mean you've heard it before! There's no pleasing some people. What a Life! <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(corny)<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-51202256133296065912010-07-05T15:35:00.023+01:002010-07-05T22:26:54.034+01:00Trivial Pursuits.......I don't know where the time goes. "<span style="font-style: italic;">You spend most of it sleeping!</span>" Who said that? It's Tabby, that poncy brother of mine again. As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted, time seems to fly past. Do you know it is seven days since I was last here - that is very nearly a week I think.<br /><br />You'll be pleased to know, that I have not wasted the time, despite what Tabby thinks. I have discovered a new hobby. As regular readers will know, I have many varied intellectual interests, such as ornithology, horticulture, gastronomy, and of course late night ratting amongst the garbage bins in the back alley. Well over the last few days, I have taken up lepidoptery - "<span style="font-style: italic;">is there no end to your talents Bert</span>" I hear you cry. "<span style="font-style: italic;">There most certainly are!</span>" Heaven forbid, it's that pesky Tabby again. Bear with me a minute while I chase him off....................................................... That's better, we can continue without his unnecessary contribution.<br /><br />Now, I realise that most of you are not as well educated as like what I am - "<span style="font-style: italic;">they must all be thick as planks to keep turning up here to read this rubbish</span>." What! He's crept back in again already. Don't go away............................................................... Right, that will be the last we hear from him, I've chased him into next doors garden and the nasty little Jack Russell that lives there has him trapped up a tree. He could be there for hours if we are lucky.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TDIRKZOqIzI/AAAAAAAAAnI/TPoJnR9Bzlw/s1600/cwhite.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 282px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TDIRKZOqIzI/AAAAAAAAAnI/TPoJnR9Bzlw/s320/cwhite.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490469765986788146" border="0" /></a>Where was I - Oh yes, lepidoptery for the uninitiated is the study and collection of flutterbies, well I think that's what they are called. I was laying in the vegetable patch, alert as always, on top of my carrot plants that the one I don't trust kindly planted for me - they are most comfortable, when I spotted a flutterby land on one of the cauliflower plants. See, I told you I was a horticulturist, I know the names of all the plants. Anyway, I crept up behind it and admired it's beauty, the delicate lace-like wings, fragile thin legs and tiny body - one of natures triumphs. A cabbage white if I am not mistaken I thought. As it flew off, I leapt at least six feet into the air, and grabbed it with both paws. They don't taste of much, but they don't half tickle when you swallow them. Unfortunately, in the process, I plunged head first into the middle of the cauliflowers, flattening about half a dozen of them.<br /><br />The one I don't trust saw all this, and came towards me shaking his fist. Thinking he must have a handful of prawns as a mark of his gratitude for me protecting his crops from the ravages of the cabbage white, I approached him expectantly. How wrong can you be! Anyway, as he seemed to have taken umbrage at some apparent slight, I decided to make a rapid exit, and hopped over the wall into next door. I completely forgot about the nasty little Jack Russell, and had to take swift evasive action. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Fancy seeing you here</span>" said Tabby as I scrambled up the apple tree and sat next to him on the top branch. Oh how he laughed! I hate him I really do.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TDIScq4r6lI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/O0wtFI6dX1k/s1600/talk.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TDIScq4r6lI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/O0wtFI6dX1k/s400/talk.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490471179475741266" border="0" /></a>Well that's your lot for today. I may be back later in the week, if I ever get out of this tree. How did it come to this - the indignity of it. Stuck up here with my poncy brother. Even the birds are laughing at me. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Don't worry</span>" said Tabby, "<span style="font-style: italic;">someone is bound to call the fire brigade to rescue us if the dog doesn't clear off.</span>" Just what we need I thought, someone aiming a hosepipe at us! I never have liked trees - it's the bark you see! What do you mean it's a rotten joke. Under these somewhat trying circumstances it's the best I can do. What a Life! <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">AlbertThe</span>(arboreal)<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-78626738752394567492010-06-28T15:45:00.018+01:002010-06-28T17:59:58.673+01:00Pond Life.........Well, here we are again at the start of a new week. I've had a very interesting few days, since I was with you last. As you know, I have been taking an interest in the World Cup. I was most disappointed when my team, the indomitable lions of Cameroon were eliminated on a mere technicality - they scored less goals than the opposition. I wasn't sure who I should follow after that, so I went off to ask for advice from wise Old Black Tom - he is a very clever cat and knows everything. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Who's going to win the world Cup</span>" I asked. "<span style="font-style: italic;">No idea</span>" he said. I explained my predicament about who to support. Old Black Tom thoughtfully sucked on a tooth and told me that in Korea, they are very partial to cats. That's nice I thought I will follow them, they are bound to win. Would you believe it, they only went and lost as well.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TCjNBAgJAfI/AAAAAAAAAm4/mZhHOH12yPs/s1600/berthot.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 379px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TCjNBAgJAfI/AAAAAAAAAm4/mZhHOH12yPs/s400/berthot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487861563149320690" border="0" /></a>The blow was softened by yesterday's shenanigans. That's a good word for a cat isn't it. No idea what it means but I must make a note to use it more often. England were playing, and I snuggled up on the sofa to watch it alongside the one I don't trust. He was very bullish, "<span style="font-style: italic;">England are bound to win - we're only playing Germany</span>" he said with blind optimism. Mind you, I think he had partaken of a small light ale beforehand. Anyway, the inevitable happened - they lost. I must say though, he took it like the true sportsman he is - cursing, swearing, shouting at the television and making crass references to the last war. I haven't laughed so much since Tabby got himself locked in the broom cupboard. The pretty one stuck her oar in - "<span style="font-style: italic;">I think England should have kicked it between the two white sticks like the Germans kept doing</span>" she helpfully advised. It's hard to argue with such logic, but that didn't stop him. I took this as my cue to go for a stroll.<br /><br />I found Old Black Tom and Riley, snoozing on the back wall in the sun. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Splendid day old boy</span>" said Riley. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Certainly is</span>" I replied and told them about the goings on at our place. We all had a little chuckle. I mentioned Korea to Old Black Tom, and he gave me one of his looks, so I changed the subject. "<span style="font-style: italic;">What's that noise coming from a few gardens along</span>" I asked. "<span style="font-style: italic;">No idea</span>" said Tom, "<span style="font-style: italic;">you and Riley go take a look and report back.</span>" When we returned, we told Tom that there were two scruffy chaps with shovels. "<span style="font-style: italic;">What are they doing</span>" asked Tom. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Digging a big hole</span>"I replied. "<span style="font-style: italic;">A big hole eh? Perhaps I should look into it</span>" said Tom, as he and Riley fell about laughing. No idea why! Anyway we took Tom and showed him what was going on. Tom looked long and hard, and then said. "<span style="font-style: italic;">They're building a pond.</span>" See, I told you he was clever, how did he know that. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I think the hose pipe filling it with water is a bit of a giveaway</span>" said Riley. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I expect they're going to put little fishes in it</span>" said Tom. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Fishes!</span>" I said excitedly, and was just about to rush off and get my knife and fork, but Tom reckoned it would be a few days yet before the fish arrived. All this talk of fish made me hungry, so I bade Tom and Riley farewell and wandered home to see if I could scrounge a few prawns.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TCjNJNyP8_I/AAAAAAAAAnA/xnoDQfZtoCA/s1600/GTsun.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 295px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TCjNJNyP8_I/AAAAAAAAAnA/xnoDQfZtoCA/s400/GTsun.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487861704153887730" border="0" /></a>Well, that's your lot for today. It's baking here, and I need a nice lie down in the shade. You can't be too careful in the sun. As I dozed off, I started to ponder the wonders of the universe - men have been to the moon, why not the sun?. I remembered asking Old Black Tom about this once - he reckoned it was far too hot. They should go at night then I thought. Tom also told me that you can tell the time by looking at the sun - I've tried it, but it was too bright, I couldn't see the numbers or the hands! What a life! <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">AlbertThe</span>(piscatorial)<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-72080295895991512722010-06-22T15:44:00.019+01:002010-06-22T23:55:23.690+01:00A Bird in the Hand...........What a day this is! I've eventually managed to catch one. "<span style="font-style: italic;">What? An unpleasant dose of fleas!</span>" Who said that? How rude! How very rude! No not fleas, after years of trying I caught a bird this morning. How about that then, I actually caught a bird? I knew you would be impressed. It was huge, with vicious sharp talons and a massive hooked beak. It put up fierce resistance, but in the end it was no match for a cat with my highly honed hunting skills. I reckon it was an eagle! "<span style="font-style: italic;">An eagle! It was a geriatric sparrow, you should be ashamed of yourself. I would have thrown it back.</span>" What, who said that? It's my poncy brother - he is always sticking his nose where it's not wanted. I wish he would clear off.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TCDe4WEAQlI/AAAAAAAAAmw/SaVFf4gu9lc/s1600/Bertpounce.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TCDe4WEAQlI/AAAAAAAAAmw/SaVFf4gu9lc/s320/Bertpounce.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485629405713678930" border="0" /></a>Now' let me tell you how this stirring event occurred. I was prowling amongst undergrowth at the bottom of the garden, when the mighty bird alighted on the grass. Without making a sound, I crept round behind the shed and took up position in amongst the cauliflower plants. Using all my feline grace and cunning, I edged closer. The bird saw me, and for what seemed like an eternity we looked at each other - it was transfixed by my unrelenting stare. I pounced, and a ferocious battle ensued - there could only be one winner. No, not the damn bird, me of course! You lot have no faith in me at all! Anyway, we digress, the end came mercifully quickly for the bird, and I stood triumphant over the great carcass! How about that then!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TCDetFcXMrI/AAAAAAAAAmo/Ck1ut_VBgAI/s1600/eagle.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TCDetFcXMrI/AAAAAAAAAmo/Ck1ut_VBgAI/s320/eagle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485629212273881778" border="0" /></a>"<span style="font-style: italic;">Ha ha ha ha ha....... ha ha ha ha........ha ha ha...... I've never heard such a cock and bull story</span>." Oh no, it's that Tabby again, I thought he had gone. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I watched the whole sorry episode through the back door - it was pitiful" </span>said Tabby, <span style="font-style: italic;">"you were asleep on the wall, when this poor little sparrow fell off a twig and landed next to you. I've never seen a cat jump so high. You were hiding behind that bush for ages before you came out. I reckon the thing died of old age.</span>" What an outrageous slander! Don't go away, I am just going to chase that poncy brother of mine off ................................ He was a bit too quick for me, but I don't think he will bother us any more today. The things I have to put up with. I'm exhausted, it's asking too much for me too catch him and a bird in the same day.<br /><br />I need a well earned rest. Think I'll go and stretch out in front of the telly with the one I don't trust and watch the <a href="http://albertthecat.blogspot.com/2010/06/greetings-from-bert-or-preferably-for.html">World Cup</a>. Did you see that our cat team, The Indomitable Lions, otherwise known as Cameroon got knocked out. Fix, I hear you all cry. A despicable conspiracy perpetrated by dogs I reckon. I'm still considering who will now benefit from my support. Here's a funny thing though, after two abject performances, the one I don't trust still thinks England will win. Well, I haven't laughed so much since Ginger Tail got her head stuck in the banisters. The pretty one thought it was funny too, and said he must have been drinking.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TCDemhdF4mI/AAAAAAAAAmg/4nW96_VZXRs/s1600/GTbannister.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TCDemhdF4mI/AAAAAAAAAmg/4nW96_VZXRs/s320/GTbannister.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485629099534049890" border="0" /></a>Well, that's my lot for today. Talking of drinking, a word of warning, it can be very bad for you. My Great Uncle Porky told me a story about his distant cousin, Fast Eddie, who is to this day, still the only known cat to have died of drink. He was run over by a brewery truck! Just one of Uncle Porky's little jokes. He use to tell me lots of things when I was a kitten, some of which were true! What a Life!<span style="font-weight: bold;"> AlbertThe</span>(hunting)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-32515909471133177792010-06-17T16:12:00.014+01:002010-06-17T20:19:14.347+01:00Happy Birthday - You Must be Joking!!!Greetings one and all. Firstly, I must offer my thanks to the vast numbers of you who sent birthday wishes on the auspicious occasion of my fifth birthday earlier in the week. I know what you're thinking, "<span style="font-style: italic;">fifth birthday? we thought he told us he was four!</span>" Well, here's a strange thing, I thought I was four! After much argument between Tabby, Ginger Tail and my good self, and after several recounts, we came to the conclusion that we were all five - doesn't time fly. This unfortunate confusion only lends credence to the malicious and totally unfounded rumours spread around by housekeeping staff that us cats can't count. You will undoubtedly remember my earlier missive on the subject - <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://albertthecat.blogspot.com/2010/01/dont-count-your-cats.html">click here if you don't</a>. Anyway, I agreed with Tabby and Ginger Tail that all four of us will close rank on this and not mention it again.<br /><br />Back to my birthday - it was a bit of a damp squib really. The one I don't trust grudgingly offered up a few extra prawns which were gratefully received. Unfortunately my poncy brother and stupid sister both think it is their birthday as well, so I had to share with them - most unsatisfactory. After breakfast, I went for a stroll, thinking the local cats would have lots of presents for me. I bumped into Riley, when I say bumped, I don't mean literally. If you did have the misfortune to actually collide with Riley, you would do yourself serious damage - he's about the size of a London bus. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Morning old boy</span>" said Riley, "<span style="font-style: italic;">what a splendid day.</span>" "<span style="font-style: italic;">It most certainly is</span>" I replied, "<span style="font-style: italic;">and a very special one at that.</span>" "<span style="font-style: italic;">I know</span>" said Riley, "<span style="font-style: italic;">it's Tabby and Ginger Tail's birthday isn't it, I expect you've got them a nice present.</span>"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TBpSzGO_l0I/AAAAAAAAAmY/n-MxaC6AixE/s1600/tabby9.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 333px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TBpSzGO_l0I/AAAAAAAAAmY/n-MxaC6AixE/s400/tabby9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483786534077306690" border="0" /></a>I was flabbergasted - my flabber has never been so gasted! "<span style="font-style: italic;">But it is my birthday</span>" I said. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Ho Ho Ho,</span>" said Riley, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Tabby told me that you'd say that</span>." "<span style="font-style: italic;">But it is</span>" I said desperately. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Nice try Bert, but I'm not going to fall for it</span> - <span style="font-style: italic;">it's a bit of a poor show to pull a trick like that, just to get your paws on your brother and sister's presents</span>." I knew it, it's that duplicitous poncy brother of mine. I hate him - wait until I get my paws on him.<br /><br />As I wandered off to look for Tabby, a voice called out "<span style="font-style: italic;">happy birthday Bert, many happy returns.</span>" I looked round, and there was wise Old Black Tom sitting on the back wall. That's a bit more like it I thought, and hopped up next to him. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I've got you some big fat prawns Bert, I hope you like them</span>" he said. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Most acceptable, I'm deeply obliged. I expect they will be delicious</span>" I replied, and sat there expectantly. After an uncomfortable silence, I said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">shall I take them then?</span>" "<span style="font-style: italic;">What do you mean?</span>" he replied, "<span style="font-style: italic;">I thought you would have eaten them by now.</span>" "<span style="font-style: italic;">I haven't even seen them</span>" I quickly replied. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Of course you have</span>" said Old Black Tom, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Ginger Tail was here a little while ago, and to save me a journey, she very kindly offered to take them for you. She is a very thoughtful little cat, she knows I can't get around as well as I use to, and said it would save me a journey. How kind.</span>"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TBpSrFSaoNI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/cd7f_sBFA00/s1600/gt9.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TBpSrFSaoNI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/cd7f_sBFA00/s400/gt9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483786396384272594" border="0" /></a>I couldn't believe it. I rushed home, to be greeted by Ginger Tail and Tabby sitting on the back step licking their lips. "<span style="font-style: italic;">We've just eaten a big pot of prawns that Old Black Tom gave us</span>" said Ginger Tail. "<span style="font-style: italic;">But they weren't yours, they were meant for me</span>" I said. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Well we knew you would want to share them with us" </span>said Tabby,<span style="font-style: italic;"> "so we made a start. We were going to leave a few for you, but they were so nice, before we knew it they had all gone.</span>" Can you believe it, stitched up by my own kith and kin!<br /><br />Well, that's my lot for today. I'm off to annoy the nasty little Jack Russell that lives next door. It always makes me feel better when I am in a bad mood. Do you know, I heard his owner talking the other day. Apparently she had to take him to the vet because he kept scratching. The vet told her that the mutt had a touch of mange. She was outraged and demanded a second opinion. "<span style="font-style: italic;">OK</span>" replied the vet, "<span style="font-style: italic;">he's got fleas as well!</span>" Ho Ho Ho.... What a Life! <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(five year old)<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-83229690821789397812010-06-14T15:12:00.019+01:002010-06-14T17:08:21.431+01:00Greetings from Bert, or Preferably for Bert!Hello folks. I've been very busy recently hence the lack of blogs. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Don't listen to him, he's been loafing about doing nothing useful at all.</span>" Who said that? It's that poncy brother of mine, I thought he was asleep in the garden. Judging from the huge number of enquiries I've had, you must all have missed me. Your concern is most touching - many thanks to both of you! I don't know why I bother, really I don't.<br /><br />Anyway, as a couple of weeks have elapsed since my last missive, I'm sure you are all desperate for my pearls of wisdom. Things are about the same round here. Nothing much has changed - prawns still in short supply. I was up bright and early this morning. "<span style="font-style: italic;">How can you say that and keep a straight face?</span>" It's Tabby again. Bear with me a moment while I chase him off................. that's better, I don't think he will trouble us any more. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I like the mornings, especially when the weather is good, it's the best time of day. The rich cacophony of bird song interspersed with the gently rasping cough of the woman next door as she enjoys her first cigarette of the day - the dawn chorus in all it's splendour. The dew on the grass, the sweet fragrance of the flowers and the heady aroma of burnt toast as the one I don't trust gets breakfast ready. A new day has truly dawned.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TBZLu0FbtqI/AAAAAAAAAmI/gRsH4JjKpkg/s1600/bertballs2.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TBZLu0FbtqI/AAAAAAAAAmI/gRsH4JjKpkg/s320/bertballs2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482652863997654690" border="0" /></a>Right, there are a couple of things I need to tell you about. Since last Friday, the one I don't trust, has taken up permanent residence on the settee, in my favourite spot actually. I was getting fed up with it, so I decided to investigate. Do you know what, he is watching football morning, day and night. It's the World Cup apparently! Now as you know, I am a rather accomplished player myself, I could have been a star - I expect you have already seen <a href="http://albertthecat.blogspot.com/2009/11/match-of-day.html">the video</a> of me in my prime - if not, <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://albertthecat.blogspot.com/2009/11/match-of-day.html">click here</a>. Well, if you can't beat them, join them, that is what I say, so I've decided to join him on the settee to watch it as well. I particularly like watching the little ball on the screen, but for some reason he gets a bit agitated when I sit in front of it and try and pat it with my paw. You can look forward to my occasional observations and expert analysis of the proceedings.<br /><br />On Saturday we watched England play - he got rather excited and was very happy until the goalkeeper did an impression of a blind man fending off an angry bee. You should have heard his language - most appalling. I should be in goal, I am very good at chasing balls. Did you know us cats have a team in it - Cameroon, otherwise known as the Indomitable Lions - I shall support them. We are bound to win.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TBZLZmRXALI/AAAAAAAAAl4/PD3DoJtlnjw/s1600/bertball.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 353px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/TBZLZmRXALI/AAAAAAAAAl4/PD3DoJtlnjw/s400/bertball.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482652499512328370" border="0" /></a>And now for the really important news - roll of drums, fanfare on trumpets..... it's my birthday tomorrow! Yes, I am four years old. "<span style="font-style: italic;">It's my birthday as well.</span>" What, who else has a birthday tomorrow? "<span style="font-style: italic;">I do,</span>" said Ginger Tail, "<span style="font-style: italic;">so does Tabby.</span>" "<span style="font-style: italic;">How does that work then</span>" I said. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Well, we are all from the same litter - we were all born under the bush on the same day,</span>" replied Ginger Tail. How unfair I thought - I expect there will be extra prawns to celebrate this auspicious occasion - I don't want to have to share them with those other two. "<span style="font-style: italic;">How old are you then</span>" I asked. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I'm four of course</span>" said Ginger Tail, "<span style="font-style: italic;">and Tabby</span>?" "<span style="font-style: italic;">Well, he's four as well</span>" she said in a rather condesending way. What a remarkable coincidence I thought.<br /><br />Well, that's my lot for today. I'm off to make sure all the other local cats know it is my birthday - I know they will want to mark the occasion with a small gift - king prawns are always acceptable. I will be celebrating tomorrow, but will be back later in the week. Did you know that birthdays are good for you. Wise Old Black Tom told me the other day, that the more birthdays you have, the longer you live. What a clever cat he is! What a Life! <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">AlbertThe</span>(expectant)<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-25330384477793999812010-05-24T16:34:00.013+01:002010-05-24T22:18:05.470+01:00Summertime and the Going is Easy....Who wrote that rubbish, I've never heard of anything so stupid. Summertime is not easy at all. We have just endured a hot, sunny weekend here in London. Thank goodness it's Monday, that's all I can say. As you may have noticed, I've been taking it rather easy recently - what do you mean you hadn't noticed! I don't know why I bother. Anyway, I felt compelled to put pen to paper (or should that be paw to keyboard?) today.<br /><br />A little bit of sunshine, and the locals go stark raving mad. I don't know what gets into them - they all seem to take to their gardens and get up to the most ludicrous things. All my little haunts where I creep off to for a quiet nap, all taken over by people in funny clothes laying about on the grass, and getting up to all sorts of ridiculous things. The only place to get a decent kip is indoors, all the houses are empty. I'm just pleased most of them have cleared off back to work this morning and left me in peace. What a weekend I've had.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S_qsNEjAisI/AAAAAAAAAlo/b0uoVrkxxZ8/s1600/gtsun.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S_qsNEjAisI/AAAAAAAAAlo/b0uoVrkxxZ8/s400/gtsun.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474877637581114050" border="0" /></a>I don't know where to start - barbecues seems as good a place as any. Now I thought a barbecue was a long line of people waiting to have their hair cut. It's not compulsory to laugh at this point, but please do try!! Anyway, what a strange ritual this is. The men, who often don't even know where the kitchen is, all of a sudden think they can cook. The sweet scent of the summer flowers is completely overwhelmed by the fragrant aroma of burnt sausage, and the bright sunshine all but obliterated by wafts of smoke that resemble a November fog rolling in off the North Sea.<br /><br />Why do they do it? I mean who wants to eat meat that is burnt to a cinder on the outside and raw in the middle - must be an acquired taste. So as not to be left out, we had a barbecue in our back garden. <span style="font-style: italic;">The one I don't trust</span> put a skewer of prawns on. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Bert will like one of these</span>" he said. Well, I would have done before he got his hands on them. He threw one in my direction. Good job I ducked - if it'd hit me, it would have knocked me out! He seemed genuinely put out when I turned my nose up at it. Now I've got a pretty good set of choppers, but even I couldn't bite through it. And another thing it smelt like it had been gently tossed in a petrol and crushed coal marinade before cooking - not to my taste at all, but they ate them.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S_qsaRPYWNI/AAAAAAAAAlw/jEN600ZjvPs/s1600/tabbysun.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 293px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S_qsaRPYWNI/AAAAAAAAAlw/jEN600ZjvPs/s400/tabbysun.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474877864326748370" border="0" /></a>I wandered off in search of peace, but in every garden I came to, similar things were going on. People of all shapes and sizes eating burnt food, their eyes running from the smoke, their faces slowly going bright red, and all dressed in funny clothes. Most of them were wearing shorts. Now some people..... how can I put this delicately...... let us just say people of a certain size and leave it at that, shouldn't be allowed to wear shorts. What a sight! I think a licence should be necessary to wear shorts. In another garden, I heard a woman tell her daughter in a very loud voice that all the neighbours could hear, to go and play in the swimming pool. Swimming pool I thought, they've put that in quick, they didn't have one yesterday. When I looked, it was nothing more than a plastic blow up thing with a couple of inches of water in it. If I had a bit of a thirst on, I could drink it in one go. I even had a look out into the front street, and all I could see was an Englishmen taking his mad dog for a walk in the mid-day sun. A little joke for my more cultured readers - all three of you.<br /><br />Well, that's my lot for today. I hate the hot weather, roll on winter that's what I say. I heard the pretty one say "<span style="font-style: italic;">that sun is very hot today.</span>" The one I don't trust<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>replied "<span style="font-style: italic;">well don't touch it then"</span> before collapsing into fits of laughter. She gave him an icy stare - there could be a cold front moving in any time now! What a life! <span style="font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(scorched)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-80104034575885677302010-05-14T12:08:00.012+01:002010-05-14T18:25:17.586+01:00Staff Problems...I'm not very happy today - problems with the <span style="font-style: italic;">housekeeping staff</span> you see. They've been getting a bit too familiar lately, taking liberties if you know what I mean. Only yesterday <span style="font-style: italic;">the pretty one </span>referred to me as "Bertie Boy." Yes, "Bertie Boy." Outrageous I hear you say. I don't mind my friends calling me Bert, but "Bertie Boy!!!!" I think the staff should stick to Albert. When you are in a position of authority like my good self you must maintain standards. It's the thin end of the wedge. Before you know it, one thing leads to another and heaven forbid, she'll be picking me up. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I'd like to see her try, you must weigh half a ton</span>" Who said that? It's my poncy brother, how rude, I wish he'd clear off.<br /><br />Anyway, you get my point. I indulge her occasionally and let her stroke me, especially if there is a prawn in it, but I do draw the line at being picked up! <span style="font-style: italic;">The one I don't trust</span> tries it occasionally. Last time it happened, I was crated up and taken to see <span style="font-style: italic;">the bloke who sticks needles in us once a year</span>. I managed to inflict quite a bit of damage to his arm. He made a dreadful fuss, but it was only a flesh wound.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-2GLjF1aMI/AAAAAAAAAlg/CUBHmyst0FE/s1600/disgruntled.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 335px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-2GLjF1aMI/AAAAAAAAAlg/CUBHmyst0FE/s400/disgruntled.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471176655281416386" border="0" /></a>I am getting a bit worried about their attitude. Take this morning for example. For some reason they had to be up early - miserable as sin they were, arguing with each other, banging about - it really disturbed my beauty sleep. "<span style="font-style: italic;">You need plenty of that!</span>" It's that damn brother of mine again, I thought he'd gone. They should think themselves lucky that I give them a few hours off to get some sleep. They were in such a rush to get out, that they neglected to give me my prawns for breakfast. I heard her tell him to make sure we were OK. "<span style="font-style: italic;">They're fine</span>" he said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">they won't starve.</span>" Then they rushed out the door leaving only a dish full of biscuits and water. You'd expect better service in a doss house wouldn't you.<br /><br />I need to teach them a lesson, let them know who's boss. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Perhaps you should disappear for a few hours, or days even, that would be better</span>" said Tabby. "<span style="font-style: italic;">They'll be really worried.</span>" Not a bad idea I thought so off I went. After a couple of hours, I got a bit peckish, and I thought they would have seen the error of their ways, so I decided to go back. When I arrived, the staff were already there. I crept in through the flap and Tabby was waiting. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Have they missed me, are they worried?</span>" I asked. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Oh yes</span>" said Tabby, "<span style="font-style: italic;">they are mortified, so much so that they had to have a sit down and watch telly.</span>" I took a peep and I must say they appear to have recovered very well from the shock! "<span style="font-style: italic;">They put a big heap of prawns down when they got back. We thought you were staying away for ages. It seemed a shame for yours to go to waste, so me and Ginger Tail scoffed the lot - they were lovely</span>" said Tabby who appeared to be semi-convulsed with laughter - I hate him, I really do.<br /><br />Well, that's my lot for today. I can't believe the bad luck I have. I thought black cats were supposed to be lucky, and I'm sort of half black. That brother of mine is no help. He's the type of cat, that just when you think you've hit rock bottom, he throws you a shovel. One day I'll sort him out. I'm going to go and sit next to <span style="font-style: italic;">the one I don't trust</span> and lull him into a false sense of security. I'll show him. Think I'll go outside and sharpen up the old claws on his cherry tree first. What a life! <span style="font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(disgruntled)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-79906319489336249082010-05-11T15:08:00.017+01:002010-05-11T17:24:09.011+01:00The Owl and The Pussycat!I've been very busy today. We had a visitor this morning, a friend of <span style="font-style: italic;">the pretty one</span>. I hate visitors. Came round for coffee. When she arrived, I gave a disgruntled look and was about to clear off when she looked at <span style="font-style: italic;">Ginger Tail</span>, who was shamelessly preening herself and said what an adorable pussycat she was. Honestly, there is no accounting for taste. Putting that aside, it started me thinking. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Surely not!</span>" Who said that? How rude. Pussycat is a very strange expression. Now I've always thought that it stems from the funny scientific names that humans give to all animals - <a href="http://albertthecat.blogspot.com/2009/12/late-breakfast.html">Pussus catti</a>, but I was wrong. Amazing I know, but true. I've been doing some research and I've uncovered all sorts of things.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-l89nu5I0I/AAAAAAAAAlY/XIc2dCqUI0g/s1600/adorable.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 293px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-l89nu5I0I/AAAAAAAAAlY/XIc2dCqUI0g/s400/adorable.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470040620497707842" border="0" /></a>Now pay attention you lot, because this is going to be very educational today. There are two schools of thought. The earliest reference to "puss" goes back to 1530 - half past three in the afternoon in your language, it didn't say which day though. It is a German word for cat. Alternatively, the Romanian word for cat is "pisika." So, you pays your money and takes your pick. I soon got bored with this, but I found something a lot more interesting - I came across a poem called "<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Owl and The Pussycat.</span>" What's this all about I thought. Well, you've never read such twaddle in your life. Take a look for yourselves.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />In a beautiful pea-green boat,</span><br />A cat and an owl? How absurd. I saw an owl once when I was out for a bit of late night ratting, sitting on a fencepost it was. Gave me a very nasty turn I'll have you know. As for getting in a boat with the thing, well I don't care if it's yellow with pink stripes, you won't get me in it!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">They took some honey, and plenty of money,</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Wrapped up in a five pound note.</span><br />Honey - what no prawns! The poor cat would starve. Us cats have no need for money. I thought everything was free, it is round here.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Owl looked up to the stars above,</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />And sang to a small guitar,</span><br />I've heard it all now, an owl playing a guitar. How does it do that? It would have to use it's claws and beak presumably. All very far fetched if you asked me.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />What a beautiful Pussy you are, you are, you are,</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />What a beautiful Pussy you are."</span><br />The cat may have been very good looking, but all an owl can do is hoot. "Hoot Hoot" it goes all the time. It would have driven the cat round the bend.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pussy said to the Owl "You elegant fowl,</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />How charmingly sweet you sing.</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />O let us be married, too long we have tarried;</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />But what shall we do for a ring?"</span><br />Elegant fowl? Have you seen an owl? Ugly as sin, great big flat head, looks like someone has hit it in the face with a shovel. No self respecting cat would say such a thing.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">They sailed away, for a year and a day,</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />To the land where the Bong-tree grows,</span><br />What on earth is a Bong-tree? I don't know what the bloke who wrote this was on, but I'll have a large one - Ho Ho Ho...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />With a ring at the end of his nose, his nose, his nose,</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />With a ring at the end of his nose.</span><br />Piggy-wig! Well this is getting sillier all the time.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling your ring?"</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Said the Piggy, "I will"</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />So they took it away, and were married next day</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />By the Turkey who lives on the hill.</span><br />As they bought the ring for a shilling, one can only assume that the pig had change for their five pound note. I thought turkey's lived in the freezer not on a hill. I recall hearing the <span style="font-style: italic;">one I don't trust</span> ask the <span style="font-style: italic;">pretty one</span> how long you can keep a turkey in the freezer. "<span style="font-style: italic;">About a couple of months</span>" she said. "<span style="font-style: italic;">That's strange</span>" he replied, "<span style="font-style: italic;">I put one in last night, and it was dead this morning!</span>"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">They dined on mince, and slices of quince,</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Which they ate with a runcible spoon.</span><br />Pretty poor fare I would suggest. Where's the prawns and fresh tuna. You'd think a side of salmon would be appropriate, I mean it's not every day that you get married - not to an owl anyway. A runcible spoon? Whatever one of those is - I prefer my dish.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand.</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />They danced by the light of the moon, the moon, the moon,</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />They danced by the light of the moon.</span><br />Surely paw in claw, not hand in hand. Wonder what sort of dance? I tried tap dancing once. It wasn't a great success, I kept falling in the sink. Ho Ho Ho...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-l82qGpWJI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/M2dUt9gRCiM/s1600/owl.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 373px; height: 325px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-l82qGpWJI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/M2dUt9gRCiM/s400/owl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470040500875122834" border="0" /></a>Well, that's my lot for today. Who writes this stuff? I may be a bit if a sceptic, but do you know, I don't believe a word of it. Still it's not often you turn up here for a spot of literature is it. What a life!<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>Perhaps I should review Shakespeare next, although personally I've never seen what all the fuss is about - much ado about nothing if you ask me.<span style="font-weight: bold;"> AlbertThe</span>(pussy)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-17583367845457615722010-05-10T15:33:00.012+01:002010-05-10T17:49:25.897+01:00Dining Out!Hello again. I don't know where the time goes, it's Monday again. They seem to come round every week. I don't like Mondays. Although they are much the same as every other day for a cat of leisure like myself, the housekeeping staff are always more crabby than usual. They were getting on my nerves this morning, so much so, that I was up and out as soon as possible, stopping only for a light breakfast of prawns and biscuits.<br /><br />I wandered along the back wall, and peered over into the garden next door. The snappy little <span style="font-style: italic;">Jack Russell</span> came scampering up and said "<span style="font-style: italic;">meow!</span>" I think he must be learning a foreign language - Ho Ho Ho, just one of my little jokes. Seriously though, he hasn't been quite the same since his <a href="http://albertthecat.blogspot.com/2010/03/beware-of-dog-or-should-that-be-cat.html">highly amusing encounter with Riley</a>. Talking of <span style="font-style: italic;">Riley</span>, I wonder where he has got to. I haven't seen hide nor hair of him since he moved in. I went to investigate. As we know, it is hard to miss <span style="font-style: italic;">Riley</span>, he is the size of a small lion. His house was still there, but no sign of <span style="font-style: italic;">Riley</span>. After a while, I heard a terrible kerfuffle, whatever one of those is, coming from inside the house. Much hissing and spitting was interspersed with the most appalling language. The back door was flung open, and much to my amazement, <span style="font-style: italic;">Riley</span> came out with his head held high, but unfortunately, his feet were held even higher. He landed in an untidy heap on the garden path. You can only admire the strength of his owner, how such a small woman managed to pick him up, let alone chuck him out is a considerable feat. <span style="font-style: italic;">Riley</span> looked back, gave a defiant growl and strolled down the path.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-g2NCwCqzI/AAAAAAAAAlA/1sny9JE03Q4/s1600/tight.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 399px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-g2NCwCqzI/AAAAAAAAAlA/1sny9JE03Q4/s400/tight.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469681345146039090" border="0" /></a>"<span style="font-style: italic;">Where have you been recently</span>" I asked. "<span style="font-style: italic;">She trapped me</span>" he replied, "<span style="font-style: italic;">I've been confined to barracks. She's got this daft idea that she had to keep me indoors after they moved house so that I acclimatised to my new surroundings.</span>" "<span style="font-style: italic;">Yes, but what about all that noise?</span>" I said. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Oh that, just a minor skirmish, old boy, I bit her</span>" he said casually. "<span style="font-style: italic;">What did you do that for?</span>" I asked. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Got fed up being indoors, so I thought if I made a big enough nuisance of myself she would eventually crack and throw me out</span>" he said. What a clever cat I thought. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Anyway now that I am out, you can accompany me for a stroll round the patch old boy. I need to stretch the legs</span>" he said. They don't need that much stretching I thought - he's big enough already.<br /><br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">I'm feeling a bit peckish</span>" said <span style="font-style: italic;">Riley</span>, "<span style="font-style: italic;">missed breakfast this morning. Probably should have waited until after she fed me before biting her. Anything on offer round your place old boy?</span>" Well, I would have been delighted to invite him in for a snack, but there is no way he would fit through the cat flap - I mean it is a bit of a squeeze even for a sleek and lithe cat like my good self. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Who is he trying to kid?</span>" Who said that? How rude. I'll have you know I am in peak condition, if I grew a bit longer I would be the perfect size for a cat of my weight. Riley has got a head the size of a water melon, so there is no way he would get in.<br /><br />I suggested we try a dustbin in a garden just along the road. <span style="font-style: italic;">Mad Harry</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Slasher Sid</span> often dine there, and it comes highly recommended. We walked up to the bin, and it did smell rather good, but unfortunately the lid was on. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Not a problem old boy</span>" said Riley who by this time had got the scent of roast chicken in his nostrils. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Can't let a little thing like that stop us can we</span>." He stood on his hind legs, put his great big front paws on the bin and gently lent on it. The whole thing went crashing to the ground spilling the contents all over the place. I was off and over the wall like a shot. The woman must have been out, because when I returned, Riley was sifting through contents. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Not bad</span>" he said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">I think I'll have the mackerel heads for starter, followed by the chicken carcass, with the lickings from the cream container for dessert. How about you old boy</span>." I had the same. After we had eaten our fill, we went for a nap on the shed roof before going our separate ways. <span style="font-style: italic;">Riley</span> reckoned his owner would have calmed down and seen the error of her ways. I wasn't so sure, but I bade him farewell and wandered off home.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-g2Sp2UksI/AAAAAAAAAlI/n4PEYa97kyY/s1600/finemeal.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-g2Sp2UksI/AAAAAAAAAlI/n4PEYa97kyY/s400/finemeal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469681441540707010" border="0" /></a>Well that's my lot for today. Quite an exciting day really. Perhaps I should write a good dustbin guide, a sort of Egon Ronay thing for cats. I could grade all the local bins based on the quality of their contents. <span style="font-style: italic;">Riley</span> would be my inspector and pop round unannounced to sample the offerings. Instead of stars, we could award "fish-heads". Imagine the prestige of having a three "fish-head" bin. Cats who after all, are lovers of fine dining would come from miles away. This reminds me of my favourite restaurant joke - "<span style="font-style: italic;">Waiter, there's a fly in my soup</span>" "<span style="font-style: italic;">Don't worry sir, the spider on the bread roll will get it</span>" Ho Ho Ho - Oh well, please yourselves. What a life! <span style="font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(gastronomic)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-56554833744574612752010-05-06T14:55:00.018+01:002010-05-06T16:32:26.953+01:00Democracy Rears it's Ugly Head!Hello everyone. I trust you are all well. Today is a very important day apparently. I'm led to believe there is a General Election. Why on earth we need more generals is a complete mystery to me. The army is stuffed with them. "<span style="font-style: italic;">It's got nothing to do with generals</span>" said Tabby in a somewhat condescending manner. "<span style="font-style: italic;">They're electing a new government</span>" he said. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Why? what have they done with the old one</span>" I asked. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Nothing, every five years they elect a new one</span>" said Tabby. "<span style="font-style: italic;">It's a waste of time talking to him</span>" said Ginger Tail, "<span style="font-style: italic;">he's a complete idiot.</span>" "<span style="font-style: italic;">That's a bit unfair</span>" said Tabby, "<span style="font-style: italic;">he's not a complete idiot - there are bits missing!</span>" Oh how they laughed! I'm really fed up with those two, I wish they'd clear off.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-Lex4z_NoI/AAAAAAAAAkw/IjnzlsptLII/s1600/bertwindows.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 261px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-Lex4z_NoI/AAAAAAAAAkw/IjnzlsptLII/s400/bertwindows.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468177846226597506" border="0" /></a>Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, there is a general election today. I wonder where I have to go to vote? I think I'll ask wise Old Black Tom. I found him in his usual place on the back wall contemplating the meaning of life, all nine of them. He is the fount of all knowledge, and knows absolutely everything. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Where do I have to go and vote</span>" I asked. "<span style="font-style: italic;">No idea</span>" he replied, "<span style="font-style: italic;">I don't take much interest in such things, it's only for the staff after all.</span>" I was outraged - "<span style="font-style: italic;">what, us cats don't get a vote - but we run the place!</span>" I replied. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I know</span>" said Old Tom, "<span style="font-style: italic;">but they think they do. It's best to let them carry on under the illusion that they are in charge. Don't want to rock the boat do we.</span>" Rocking boats, what have they got to do with it, perhaps the navy is involved as well.<br /><br />Old Tom told me a bit about how it all worked - very interesting stuff. Apparently they wander off to a little place down the road, where they put a "X" on a piece of paper next to someones name. When it's all over they add all the "X's" up, and whoever has the most wins and then pretends to run the country. When we wake up tomorrow, everything is back to normal with us cats in charge. Simple really. Did you know, it is only in recent times, the last few years probably, that women have been able to vote. Now if I've remembered this right, it was all brought about by a lady called Emily Pancake and some courgettes. All sounds a bit far fetched to me, but I didn't like to show my ignorance. "<span style="font-style: italic;">That'll make a change</span>" - who said that? How rude! I presume she threw the said vegetables at the men until they got fed up with her and let her vote.<br /><br />We've got some courgettes growing in the garden, I wonder if I could do the same and get cats the vote. I mean, who better - do you remember <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://albertthecat.blogspot.com/2009/12/official-its-landslide.html">my landslide victory in the local elections</a> last year. I could lead a popular campaign to get votes for cats. It would be a massive uprising, and I would ride a tidal wave of feline support all the way to Downing Street. Alternatively, I could go back home for a spot of lunch and a nice nap. What a big decision - I'm feeling a bit tired, so I think I'll go for the nap after all.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-Lf0RBoxBI/AAAAAAAAAk4/bh2gibMezrA/s1600/ob4.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 177px; height: 86px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-Lf0RBoxBI/AAAAAAAAAk4/bh2gibMezrA/s400/ob4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468178986597663762" border="0" /></a>Well, that's my lot for today. I hope you have all learnt something. When I got back, my poncy brother and my stupid sister were still loafing about. I told them all about the pancake lady. "<span style="font-style: italic;">See, I told you he's stupid</span>" said Ginger Tail, "<span style="font-style: italic;">everyone thinks so.</span>" Tabby stuck up for me though - he said that everyone can't think I'm stupid, because I haven't met everyone yet. So, that was nice of him - I think. What a Life! <span style="font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(campaigning)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-90988855014991932002010-05-04T12:59:00.013+01:002010-05-04T17:01:38.852+01:00It's a Frogs Life!Good day to you all. What a tough weekend I've had. You will recall, <span style="font-style: italic;">the one I don't trust </span>threatened to reduce my already meagre prawn ration if I didn't keep the blackbirds off of his newly planted grass seed. I've been out on guard duty in all weathers - thunderstorms, hail, gales, lightning, tornadoes, you name it, we've had it. "<span style="font-style: italic;">What are you talking about - nothing more than a spot of drizzle and a gentle breeze.</span>" Don't tell them that! It's <span>my stupid sister</span>, I wish she would shut up. Anyway, moving on , I can safely say that no blackbird has eaten even one seed. "<span style="font-style: italic;">What about those two pigeons who were so stuffed - they could hardly take off?</span>" Look, I won't tell you again, shut up! Ooh, she is a nuisance.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-BEqHJmgZI/AAAAAAAAAko/Q1Vfx0aovZw/s1600/bertguard.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 293px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-BEqHJmgZI/AAAAAAAAAko/Q1Vfx0aovZw/s400/bertguard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467445437892297106" border="0" /></a>Yesterday was a public holiday. It poured down most of the day. Apparently it always rains on such occasions. Personally I don't agree with the things, I mean why on earth do they need another holiday - it is a real pain. The <span>housekeeping staff</span> just loaf about, not knowing what to do with themselves. All the time they were hanging about the place I had to pretend to be on guard duty. At least they have cleared off today leaving me in peace to go and have a nice kip on the bed. He will never know if anything has eaten the seeds - I doubt if they will grow anyway, not after I've had a good roll on them, well, the ones that are left that is. Hoe Hoe Hoe.... pay attention, that was just one of my little gardening jokes!<br /><br />While I was taking a break from the arduous guard duty, I had a little stroll around the local patch. A few gardens along, there is a pond. I was looking into it, hoping one of the little fishes would come up to the top when I heard this strange croaking noise behind me. Would you believe it, a frog jumped out of the grass, straight into the pond, and splashed water all over me. It gave me quite a turn! Anyway, after I came down from the tree, I had another look, and do you know, the pond was full of little black things swimming about. Now, for the uninitiated these are called tadpoles and apparently they turn into frogs - a neat little trick, no idea how they do it.<br /><br />I expect you are impressed, you didn't know that along with my many other talents - ornithology, horticulture, etc. I am also a keen naturist. Are there no ends to your talents Bert, I hear you cry. "<span style="font-style: italic;">There most certainly are.</span>" Who said that? "<span style="font-style: italic;">You mean naturalist not naturist</span>" laughed Tabby. It's my poncy brother, what's he doing here? "<span style="font-style: italic;">A naturist is someone who likes running around without any clothes on</span>" he said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">remember, just like you after the bloke who sticks needles in us once a year had to shave you after the unfortunate incident with the pot of green paint when you were a kitten, oh how we laughed.</span>" We won't go into that! I hate him, I really do. What does he know anyway. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Why do people who know about frogs have to take their clothes off?</span>" I shrewdly asked. He had no answer. He really shouldn't get involved in arguments with a cat of my intellect. Anyway, how was I to know that old can was full of paint.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-BDj6N86XI/AAAAAAAAAkg/mr446Kl8ShQ/s1600/tabbysmug.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S-BDj6N86XI/AAAAAAAAAkg/mr446Kl8ShQ/s400/tabbysmug.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467444231830038898" border="0" /></a>Well, that's my lot for today. Suppose I'd better get back on sentry duty before the one I don't trust returns. The damn pigeons will be back for their lunch I expect. I reckon they are redundant carrier pigeons. What with e-mail and text messaging they have too much time on their hands. Nothing to do all day but eat our grass seed. The things I have to put up with. What a life! <span style="font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(fully clothed)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-64959492349758919992010-04-30T15:55:00.011+01:002010-04-30T19:32:23.952+01:00The Return of Bert.....Greetings one and all. I'm back. "<span style="font-style: italic;">About time too!</span>" Who said that? How rude. Have you missed me? I said, have you missed me? Don't all shout at once will you. Well, <span style="font-style: italic;">the one I don't trust</span> finally returned from his travels yesterday, and gave me my computer back. I've no idea where he has been. Everything seems to be getting back to normal. In a funny sort of way, I have quite missed him. Life has been pleasant without him, I mean <span style="font-style: italic;">the pretty one</span> has spoilt us rotten, but without the little triumphs I enjoy in my ongoing battle with him, life somehow lacks a challenge.<br /><br />He seemed quite pleased to see me - I think. Well, he gave me <span style="font-style: italic;">Tabby</span> and<span style="font-style: italic;"> Ginger Tail</span> a decent handful of prawns each this morning. The first thing he did when he got back, was to take a look round the garden. Before he went away, he had spent a lot of time planting all manner of things. He even went to great lengths to protect seeds and plants from unwelcome visitors and pests. Now, I'm sure he didn't mean to include me in this, because I had no trouble in getting under the netting and through his amateurish fences to dig in my usual places. They present no challenge at all to a cat of my outstanding intellect. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Tell them how you got your head stuck in the hole in the fence</span>" - it's that <span style="font-style: italic;">poncy brother</span> of mine. I wish he would clear off.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S9shCz6ue2I/AAAAAAAAAkY/y0KzsfWT6jM/s1600/tabbycarrot.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S9shCz6ue2I/AAAAAAAAAkY/y0KzsfWT6jM/s400/tabbycarrot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465998904924207970" border="0" /></a>Anyway, moving swiftly on, <span style="font-style: italic;">the one I don't trust</span> didn't seem all that impressed with my efforts. His main wrath however was reserved for the birds. He has planted some seed on the bare patches of scruffy grass that he laughingly calls a lawn. While he was standing at one end of the garden, a blackbird landed at the other and duly commenced to tuck in. In a state of near apoplexy he ran after it. The blackbird scooped up a final beakful of seed before flitting up on to the fence and chirping cheerfully in his general direction. This made things worse - he came towards me shaking his fist - "<span style="font-style: italic;">three cats on the payroll</span>" he said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">and I've got birds eating the damn grass seed.</span>" He then threatened all three of us with reduced prawn rations if we didn't buck our ideas up. What an outrage I thought. I'm not standing for that.<br /><br />What can I do to show him who is in charge round here. He has some cumbercu plants - I think that's what they are called. Small marrows I believe. Being a keen horticulturist, I am aware that they are classified as squashes - why are they called that I hear you ask. Obvious really, when I roll around it squashes them, Ho Ho Ho.....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S9sg8jAtbsI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/TtA7BCp2Ego/s1600/bertpeas.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 314px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S9sg8jAtbsI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/TtA7BCp2Ego/s400/bertpeas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465998797306687170" border="0" /></a>Well that's my lot for today. Just time to tell you about the little red things he has planted - most peculiar they are. Do you know I can hear them talk, very quietly though, in a whisper in fact. Unusual for a vegetable don't you think? They must be hoarse radishes! Ho Ho Ho.... I don't know where I get them from. Please yourselves, I thought it was funny. In case he is serious about his malicious threat to deprive me of prawns, I have decided to take up guard duty to keep the pesky blackbirds away. See you all next week. What a life! <span style="font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(ever alert)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-91451163528023658242010-04-20T15:53:00.012+01:002010-04-20T18:03:37.926+01:00Off with a Bang, or Going with the Flow!What a pleasant surprise for you lot. You didn't expect to hear from me again until next week, did you? This is a little bonus. You will recall, the last time I wrote, <span style="font-style: italic;">the one I don't trust </span>was going away until next week - excellent news, but the drawback being that he took my computer with him. Well, would you believe it, he only went and turned up on the doorstep this morning. You could have knocked me down with a feather. We have been enjoying a rare old time - <span style="font-style: italic;">the pretty one</span> has spoilt us rotten. Extra prawns, sleeping all night (and most of the day) on the bed, no abuse when digging holes in the garden - it's been truly wonderful, how life should be.<br /><br />Why has he come back early I hear you cry. Apparently he was supposed to get on an aeroplane this morning but a volcano erupted! I immediately dived under the bed, you can't be too careful can you! I'm sure I would have noticed a volcano going off, I mean, not much gets past me! It would have woken me up. He insists it's true though.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S83UrT4vKQI/AAAAAAAAAkA/uW26oKSC7Sw/s1600/bertvolcano.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 325px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S83UrT4vKQI/AAAAAAAAAkA/uW26oKSC7Sw/s400/bertvolcano.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462255763607988482" border="0" /></a>Apparently the volcano is a little way north of here - in the next road I expect. It has chucked out so much ash and dust, that nothing is allowed to fly. What an opportunity I thought - I rushed straight out into the garden to see what the birds were up to. I mean if they can't fly, it should be easy for me to catch the little critters. Much to my disappointment, no one seems to have told them, because they were still flitting about as usual. They ought to be careful though, I mean if they fly over the top of the volcano they will roast - Mmmmmm.... roast pigeon, very tasty!<br /><br />As regular readers know, we live in London, near the airport, so aeroplanes fly over our back garden all day, and most of the night! Damn nuisance they are - every time I doze off, another one goes over the top. Now come to think of it, we haven't seen one for days now, so there must be some truth in this. I wonder how long this will go on for - until the dust settles I expect, Ho Ho Ho..... There is some good news - the return home by <span style="font-style: italic;">the one I don't trust</span> is only temporary. He is off again tomorrow, having made alternative arrangements to travel by train. Not sure where he is off to, don't really care actually, as long as he goes! He is going to take my computer again, so I won't be back until next week when he returns.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S83UwQPxHWI/AAAAAAAAAkI/IBNlxG8hr1M/s1600/bertpigeon.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 248px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S83UwQPxHWI/AAAAAAAAAkI/IBNlxG8hr1M/s400/bertpigeon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462255848530189666" border="0" /></a>Well, that's my lot for today. It's all I've got time for. I was going to tell you all about my recent exploits in the garden but that will have to wait. To cut a long story short, he planted lots of seeds before he went away, and then devised a cunning plan to stop me rolling on top of them. When he finds out his plan failed there could well be a volcano closer to home - he will blow his top! I've always said he was full of hot air! I'm off to look for the volcano, I can smell roast pigeon. See you next week. What a Life! <span style="font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(quaking)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-8071878113031659822010-04-09T15:58:00.011+01:002010-04-09T17:05:31.470+01:00Good News and Bad News!Greetings folks. What a day I've had! There is some really hot news - very good news for me, but not so good for you lot. I don't know where to begin.<br /><br />Probably best to start with the good news. <span style="font-style: italic;">The housekeeping staff</span> were talking this morning, and as I like to keep abreast of what is going on around here, I was earholing their conversation from behind a chair. <span style="font-style: italic;">The one I don't trust</span> is going away for a couple of weeks. At first I was horrified, as I assumed <span style="font-style: italic;">the pretty one</span> would go with him, and we would be shipped off to Camp Colditz to endure the harsh regime presided over by the evil camp commandant. But no, she is staying here to look after me and the other two.<br /><br />Wonderful news isn't it? I mean he is a damn nuisance and we will be well shot of him for a while. Good riddance is what I say. I can't wait for him to clear off. <span style="font-style: italic;">The pretty one</span> is extremely gullible - I can wrap her round my little finger. I can see it now, prawns for breakfast, lunch, dinner and supper, not forgetting snacks between meals and my little treats for being good. I'm sure the menu will be far superior to the somewhat sparse rations he provides. I'll be able to sleep on the bed as well if I play my cards right - he gets a little touchy about this, especially if I come in after a bit of late night digging in the rain.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S79P4XrvO8I/AAAAAAAAAjw/Av-NPZzrPzg/s1600/bertsleep1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 285px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S79P4XrvO8I/AAAAAAAAAjw/Av-NPZzrPzg/s400/bertsleep1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458169103245065154" border="0" /></a>What is the bad news then I hear you ask. Well, it's not that bad for me, but it could be traumatic for you lot. Now brace yourselves - you see, when he goes away he is going to take my computer with him, so I won't be able to share these rather eloquent missives with you. What, no Bert's Blog for a couple of weeks, I hear you cry. I know how distressed you must be. How will you get by? "<span style="font-style: italic;">I bet they're delighted not to have to read that rubbish for a fortnight</span>." Who said that? It's <span style="font-style: italic;">my poncy brother</span>, Tabby - I hate him I do really. Just wait until I get my paws on him. Yes, it's true, I will be off-line for the duration. Still, every cloud has a silver lining as they say. In recognition of my generosity in letting him take my computer, he gave me an extra handful of prawns. It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good. "<span style="font-style: italic;">That's enough corny old cliches</span>." I wish Tabby would shut up - he is a pain in the neck. Cliches indeed, I'm fed up to the back teeth with them.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S79P84Yz5BI/AAAAAAAAAj4/Ac8fsPG7RAU/s1600/bertsleep2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 276px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S79P84Yz5BI/AAAAAAAAAj4/Ac8fsPG7RAU/s400/bertsleep2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458169180743525394" border="0" /></a>Well that's your lot for today, and the next couple of weeks in fact. Must be off, that <span style="font-style: italic;">poncy brother</span> of mine is already ingratiating himself with <span style="font-style: italic;">the pretty one</span>. I must make sure he doesn't get more prawns than me. I will be back around the end of the month. I just hope you can get by without me. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I expect we'll manage</span>." Who said that? How rude! What a Life! <span style="font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(Off-line)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-90152965363204329772010-04-07T15:02:00.015+01:002010-04-07T17:19:47.606+01:00Bert's Nature Notes.Well here we are again. After yesterday's extravaganza, something a little more mundane but very educational. I went for a gentle stroll round the estate this morning, and thought I would share with you some of my observations. As you know, I am a keen ornithologist and horticulturist - whatever they are! It is a very interesting time of year in the garden you know. All the little things that disappeared during the winter have started to come back. The first thing of interest I noticed was a small brown and red thing flitting amongst the flowers, first one of the year. A sight to behold - a thing of rare beauty. It nearly bought a tear to my eye. I think they are called flutterbies, or something like that. Great fun to chase, but not good eating, very little flavour I find. <span style="font-style: italic;">The one I don't trust</span> gets very agitated when I charge through the flowerbed to get at them.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7yvcH_TlaI/AAAAAAAAAjo/hTkLX-82fdE/s1600/berttabbybirds.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7yvcH_TlaI/AAAAAAAAAjo/hTkLX-82fdE/s400/berttabbybirds.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457429746181969314" border="0" /></a>The trees and bushes are turning green, in fact many are bejewelled with yellow, pink, blue and white blossom that cascades gently to the ground in the breeze, like delicate flakes of snow, forming a pristine carpet of wondrous colours. I soon changed that - it was all over my favourite digging spot would you believe! Looks like a mud heap now.<br /><br />I was disturbed by the sound of buzzing, and upon investigation, I saw a bumble bee that had just roused itself from it's winter slumber. It was busy darting from flower to flower. What an industrious little creature I thought, a lesson to us all. Apparently they make honey - no idea how they do it, but you have to admire them. I've seen a pot of the stuff in the kitchen. How the little fellows can lift it I do not know, and as for screwing on the lid, well that's anybodies guess. Now a word of warning to you other cats. Do not chase bees! They can seriously damage your health. They get very angry and pack a real punch. In my experience, anything in nature with black and yellow stripes is bad news - leave well alone. Take the tiger for example, we haven't got too many round here, but you wouldn't want to bump into one down the back alley when out for a bit of late night ratting would you?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7yu_p_9rBI/AAAAAAAAAjY/vFLh-h6iHKs/s1600/bertbee.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 315px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7yu_p_9rBI/AAAAAAAAAjY/vFLh-h6iHKs/s400/bertbee.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457429257095326738" border="0" /></a>The dawn chorus filled the still early morning air with a breathtaking cacophony of melodious sound. Dreadful din, gave me a headache! What do you mean I wasn't up at dawn - who said that? Anyway, I'm sure it would have sounded just like that if I was up. The birds were flying around carrying twigs and bits of grass to construct their nests. A couple of pigeons have started to build in a tree in my garden. Damn cheek - I'll have to get that shifted, I mean no self respecting cat has a birds nest in his back garden do they?<br /><br />Watching all the activity made me feel quite tired, so I decided to go inside for a snack and a lie down. On the way I paused to look at some beautiful little flowers that had just appeared. I took a sniff of their fragrant perfume and immediately sneezed! Anemonem.., anemononem.., anemononons.., anemonononies.., grrrrrr..... little pink things, they are called. I was so annoyed at their silly name, that I swatted one and sat on three more. That'll teach them I thought.<br /><br />Well that's your lot for today. I hope you have enjoyed the little nature lesson. I expect you have learnt a lot. As you can see, it is a very special time of year or us nature lovers. We all have a role to play in caring for our environment. It was only the other day as I was walking through the kitchen that I was reminded of my own carbon paw print. "<span style="font-style: italic;">What on earth has that cat been walking in</span>" shouted <span style="font-style: italic;">the one I don't trust</span>. What a life! <span style="font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(eco-friendly)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-1475037758006984032010-04-06T15:28:00.016+01:002010-04-06T17:59:49.498+01:00"Ask Bert" Yet Again - Even More Agony!Hello once again, and welcome back after the Easter break. I trust you all had a nice time. I did - I had a really good kip, and feel fully refreshed and raring to go. I didn't know what to write about today so I have delved into my busy postbag. You'll all be delighted to know, that I am going to do another of my ever popular agony columns - "Ask Bert". This is where I offer advice to all you poor saps out there with personal problems who have written in seeking my wise and caring counsel. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Blimey, he's really scraping the barrel today!</span>" Who said that, how rude! You will no doubt be aware that we have done this <a href="http://albertthecat.blogspot.com/2010/01/ask-bert-again-more-agony.html">a couple of times before</a> with excellent results. I don't beat about the bush. I am not afraid to give advice that no one wants to hear! So, without further ado, lets get stuck in.<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><br /><br />Dear Bert</span> - I am a well rounded cat, who enjoys the finer things in life. My staff look after me reasonably well, even if they are a little sparing with the fresh salmon. I really do not have a care in the world, but recently I have started to worry about my sleeping habits. I only sleep for 23 hours a day and think I may be suffering from insomnia. Please help. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Your etc... Basil.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7tlruzLcOI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/HjSex9_s9R8/s1600/bertthinking.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 74px; height: 74px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7tlruzLcOI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/HjSex9_s9R8/s200/bertthinking.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457067175460958434" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Dear Basil</span> - Let me put your mind at rest. I have checked back through the records, and there are no known cases of a cat suffering from insomnia. Have you tried counting sheep? I tried counting prawns once, but it just made me hungry. Imagine sheep jumping over a fence.... one sheep, two sheep, three sheep, four sheep, five sheep, six shee.... Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...... Where am I? What happened? I must have dropped off. I think you get my drift. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Yours etc... Bert.</span><br /><div style="text-align: center;">***********************************<br /></div><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><br />Dear Bert</span> - I am suffering from amnesia and déjà vu at the same time. I think I may have forgotten this before. Please help. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Yours etc..., name and address forgotten</span>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7tlruzLcOI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/HjSex9_s9R8/s1600/bertthinking.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 74px; height: 74px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7tlruzLcOI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/HjSex9_s9R8/s200/bertthinking.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457067175460958434" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Dear whoever you are</span> - How long have you had amnesia - probably for as long as you can remember. If I was you, I would try and forget all about it, in fact you may have done so already. There is little point in me giving you much more advice, as you will only forget it. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Yours etc... Bert.</span><br /><div style="text-align: center;">***********************************<br /></div><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Dear Bert</span> - I am a snappy little <a href="http://albertthecat.blogspot.com/2010/03/short-guide-to-bertspeak.html">Jack Russell</a>, and I don’t usually talk to cats. However, I am being plagued by a big fat black and white one who lives next door to me. He sits on the wall, just out of my reach and hisses at me. The other day I got so angry that I went out into the road and chased someone on a bike. What should I do? <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Yours etc... Jack</span>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7tlruzLcOI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/HjSex9_s9R8/s1600/bertthinking.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 74px; height: 74px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7tlruzLcOI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/HjSex9_s9R8/s200/bertthinking.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457067175460958434" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Dear Jack</span> - Firstly, I am amazed that your owner lets you have a bike! Secondly, you should not insinuate that the black and white cat is fat. I suspect he is just well built. Treat the cat with respect. Perhaps if you left some of your delicious chicken pieces in the garden - next to the shed by the back wall would be good, then he may stop hissing at you. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Yours etc... Bert.</span><br /><div style="text-align: center;">***********************************<br /></div><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Dear Bert</span> – I am a desperate cat who has written to you in strictest confidence <a href="http://albertthecat.blogspot.com/2010/01/ask-bert-again-more-agony.html">twice previously</a>. I followed your advice to the letter. Despite now being able to stand on my hind legs and pick up buns with my nose, I have failed to make the grade as an elephant. The circus owner has allowed me to stay on, but only if I keep the circus free from rodents. This brings me back to my original problem, which you diagnosed as musophobia - fear of mice. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Yours etc... Name and address supplied.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7tlruzLcOI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/HjSex9_s9R8/s1600/bertthinking.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 74px; height: 74px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7tlruzLcOI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/HjSex9_s9R8/s200/bertthinking.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457067175460958434" border="0" /></a>Dear <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Anonymous</span> - I think I recall our previous correspondence. It's you isn't it - George from Manchester. I can assure you that your identity is safe with me, as is your shameful secret. I believe you are incurable, but looking on the bright side, your predicament does at least give me the opportunity to tell my elephant joke. "<span style="font-style: italic;">What do you get if you cross an elephant with a cat? - Very nervous mice!</span>" Ho Ho Ho. I expect you are laughing along with us and feeling better already. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Yours etc... Bert.<br /></span><div style="text-align: center;">***********************************<br /></div> <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Dear Bert</span> - Allow me to introduce myselves. I have a split personality. This makes life very complicated, especially at meal times. I eat all of my food, and there is none left for me. What should I do? <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Yours etc... Chip (and Dale)</span>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7tlruzLcOI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/HjSex9_s9R8/s1600/bertthinking.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 74px; height: 74px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7tlruzLcOI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/HjSex9_s9R8/s200/bertthinking.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457067175460958434" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Dear Chip (and Dale)</span> - I think you need to shape up. The problem is all in the mind. If you came to see me, the first thing I would do is to bang your head together! You remind me of a pair of curtains - pull yourself together. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Yours etc... Bert.<br /></span><div style="text-align: center;">***********************************<br /></div> <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><br />Dear Bert</span> - I have an unpleasant medical condition. My claws grow very quickly, and dig into my paws. This is bad enough, but to make matters worse, my staff take me to the vet on a regular basis to have them clipped. Is there a cure! <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Yours etc... Claude</span>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7tlruzLcOI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/HjSex9_s9R8/s1600/bertthinking.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 74px; height: 74px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7tlruzLcOI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/HjSex9_s9R8/s200/bertthinking.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457067175460958434" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Dear Claude</span> - I believe humans suffer from something similar called ingrown toenails - what ever that is. Let us hope it is nothing minor! I fear your condition may be hereditary. I had a friend once who had the same problem - he was told feet run in the family. Look on the bright side, I had another friend, and noses ran in his family. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Yours etc... Bert</span>.<br /><div style="text-align: center;">***********************************<br /></div><br />Well, that's my lot for today. You can only take so much of this stuff can't you. What a depressing postbag that was. Do you know, there was even a letter from a cat claiming to suffer from low self esteem - I had to tell him it was very common among losers! I'm going for a lie down. What a life! <span style="font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(compassionate)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-43044274594923698632010-04-01T16:51:00.015+01:002010-04-01T18:50:02.189+01:00One Born Every Minute!I think I've just about recovered from yesterdays <a href="http://albertthecat.blogspot.com/2010/03/variety-is-spice-of-life.html">unfortunate incident</a> with the curry. I didn't get up too early this morning, and by the time I went down for breakfast, <span style="font-style: italic;">Tabby</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Ginger Tail</span> were already out and about. I put on my best pitiful look and stared longingly at <span style="font-style: italic;">the pretty one</span>. She immediately rushed to the fridge, and served up some prawns. I've still got the old magic I thought to myself. I carefully checked to make sure they were not poisoned with curry and then devoured them. They hardly touched the sides. Very nice I thought, wonder what's for main course.<br /><br />Just as I was licking my lips, <span style="font-style: italic;">Tabby</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Ginger Tail</span> came charging in through the flap. "<span style="font-style: italic;">You'll never guess</span>" said Tabby, "<span style="font-style: italic;">we've found a magic tree</span>." "<span style="font-style: italic;">Yes</span>" said Ginger Tail, "<span style="font-style: italic;">it's grown overnight in the garden over the back wall.</span>" What a load of rubbish I thought. "<span style="font-style: italic;">What's magic about it then?</span>" I asked. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Prawns are growing on it</span>" said Tabby, "<span style="font-style: italic;">there are big fat juicy prawns growing on it.</span>" Now, as you can imagine, I was a little sceptical, because we all know where prawns come from don't we - yes, that's right, the big white thing in the kitchen. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Little pink things have grown on the tree overnight</span>" said Ginger Tail, "<span style="font-style: italic;">if you know the magic secret, they turn into prawns.</span>" "<span style="font-style: italic;">Little pink things? You stupid cat</span>" I said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">they're buds, anyway how do you know the magic secret.</span>" "<span style="font-style: italic;">Wise Old Black Tom told us</span>" she said confidently.<br /><br />That changed everything, because Old Black Tom is a very clever cat - he knows absolutely everything. If he told them, it must be true. "<span style="font-style: italic;">What's the magic secret then.</span>" I asked. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Not telling,</span>" Ginger Tail replied. After much pleading, Tabby let me in on it. "<span style="font-style: italic;">What you have to do</span> i<span style="font-style: italic;">s walk round the tree three times, scratch the tree trunk as hard as you can for five minutes, jump into the flowerbed, roll in the tulips, and then sit outside the back door and mew as loud as you can with your eyes shut. When you open your eyes, the tree is covered in big juicy prawns.</span>"<br /><br />So off I went. If I hadn't know better, I could have sworn I heard giggling as I left. I climbed over the wall, and sure enough, the tree was just as they said, covered in little pink things. Now, I've had a few run-ins with the woman over the back wall, I think she may be a witch - there is a broomstick propped up against the wall which is a bit of a giveaway. She has no sense of humour, in fact she took great umbrage when I started ferreting about in her roses. She was nowhere to be seen, so I started off by walking round the tree three times. I scratched the trunk for all I was worth, and dived headlong into the tulips - I flattened them! Now for the "piece de resistance" - I sat outside the back door and mewed at the top of my voice with my eyes firmly closed. When I opened them, what a sight greeted me - the witch was standing over me with a bucket of cold water which she then promptly chucked all over yours truly.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7Ta_mF7C0I/AAAAAAAAAjI/MQkPGkSAF24/s1600/bertwet.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 327px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7Ta_mF7C0I/AAAAAAAAAjI/MQkPGkSAF24/s400/bertwet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455225834744515394" border="0" /></a>I was off like a shot. As I went in through the flap, Tabby and Ginger Tail were rolling on the floor convulsed with laughter. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Is it raining</span><span style="font-style: italic;">?</span>"<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>enquired Tabby<span style="font-style: italic;">, "I thought the sun was out - how did you get on with her prize magnolia</span>?" "<span style="font-style: italic;">Do you know what day it is?</span>" asked Ginger Tail. "<span style="font-style: italic;">32nd March</span>" I replied. "<span style="font-style: italic;">No</span>" she said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">it's 1st April - your special day</span>" "<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">April fool</span>" they cried in unison. Grrrrr... I hate them, I really do.<br /><br />Well that's my lot for today. Do you know, in the rush to evacuate the woman's garden, I forgot to check out the magic tree to see how many prawns had appeared. Once the witch has calmed down, I will go and have a look - I don't want <span style="font-style: italic;">my stupid brother</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">my poncy sister</span> stealing them. All that remains is for me to wish you all a pleasant Easter. I'm going to have a well earned rest. I will see you all next week. What a life! <span style="font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(gullible)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8681862552650094102.post-2236434641935883722010-03-31T16:27:00.012+01:002010-04-01T00:12:13.630+01:00Variety is the Spice of Life....Hello. I'm not feeling too good at all today. What a night I've had! I blame<span style="font-style: italic;"> the housekeeping staff</span>, and in particular <span style="font-style: italic;">the one I don't trust</span>. If it wasn't for their slovenly habits I wouldn't be in this state. After supper last night I decided to go and do a bit of ratting - along with ornithology and horticulture, it is one of my favourite hobbies. I met up with <span style="font-style: italic;">Mad Harry</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Slasher Sid</span>, and we went to one of our chosen spots - the communal garbage bins round the back of a nearby apartment block. We didn't have much luck, but you should have seen the size of the one that got away!<br /><br />After a couple of hours it started to rain so I decided to call it a night and wandered back home. I was feeling a bit peckish, and as everyone else had gone to bed I thought I would have a little look around to see if there was anything on offer. I was walking along the kitchen top by the sink and sure enough, there was a stack of dirty plates, pots, pans, etc. How bone idle I thought, they haven't bothered to do the washing up after supper. However, my contempt for their laziness was soon overcome by delight - I couldn't believe my eyes. Inside one of the pots were lots of really juicy prawns, although they were covered in a rather strange smelling sauce.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7OGnOJr0qI/AAAAAAAAAjA/e-zQ1CgSVeQ/s1600/bertpuddle.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 332px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Uw0wXyF4o-Q/S7OGnOJr0qI/AAAAAAAAAjA/e-zQ1CgSVeQ/s400/bertpuddle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454851582047539874" border="0" /></a>Too good to be true I thought, and was about to sample one, when I heard <span style="font-style: italic;">Tabby</span> come into the kitchen. "<span style="font-style: italic;">I wouldn't eat those if I were you</span>" he said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">they won't do you any good.</span>" Surely he didn't think I would fall for that old trick. He's not having any I thought, he's just trying to curry favour. Quick as a flash, I scoffed the lot. "<span style="font-style: italic;">You haven't eaten them have you?</span>" asked <span style="font-style: italic;">Tabby</span> in amazement. He called to <span style="font-style: italic;">Ginger Tail</span>, "<span style="font-style: italic;">he's only gone and eaten those prawns!</span>" <span style="font-style: italic;">Ginger Tail</span> came running over, and they both stood there and gawped at me. At this point I smelt a rat, which is more than I'd managed earlier. What do they know that I don't? "<span style="font-style: italic;">Guess what they had for supper last night</span>" said <span style="font-style: italic;">Ginger Tail</span>? "<span style="font-style: italic;">Big fat prawns,</span>" I replied. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Prawn curry!</span>" said <span style="font-style: italic;">Ginger Tail</span>. All of a sudden, this strange feeling came over me. My mouth was on fire, and I swear steam was coming out of my ears. Good job there was water in the sink - in my rush to swill the stuff down I very nearly fell in. Oh how they laughed. I've never drunk so much in my life. I spent the rest of the night drinking the garden puddles and digging in the flower beds if you get my drift.<br /><br />Well that's my lot for today. I cannot understand how they can eat the stuff. Do you know, they pick up the phone and in about half an hour some bloke brings it round to the door. I heard him on the phone the other night. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Do you deliver?</span>" he said. "<span style="font-style: italic;">No sir, we do chicken, lamb and prawn, but no liver</span>" the bloke at the other end replied. Ho Ho Ho... What do you mean it's a rotten joke! In my delicate condition it is the best I can do. What a waste of perfectly good prawns. I reckon <span style="font-style: italic;">the one I don't trust</span> left them by the sink on purpose to try and poison me. Still, wait until he sees what I've done to his flowerbed! What a life! <span style="font-weight: bold;">AlbertThe</span>(fire-breathing)<span style="font-weight: bold;">Cat</span>.Albert The Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08187052320302992162noreply@blogger.com8