Christmas is Coming.....

Hello again. Guess what's happened round here today. "The housekeeping staff" went out this morning, just after prawns, and when they came back, they had a strange looking tree with them- a Norwegian fir apparently! It's out in the garden, leaning up against the shed at the moment. As you would expect, I've had a good look at it, and to be honest, I am quite underwhelmed. I mean it has been sawn off above the root, so I didn't hold out much hope for it. It smells of pine - reminds me of the disinfectant type pong indoors just after they find one of Tabby's hairballs.

I heard "the one I don't trust", saying something about it looking nice once it has been moved inside the house. This is all part of the Christmas ritual that is looming up on us. If nothing else, I reckon it will make a very useful indoor scratching post. Will come in handy when it is raining outside. I will keep an eye on this, and keep you posted over the next week or so. I don't know why, but it fills me with a strange sense of foreboding!

Talking of Christmas, I find it all rather unsettling. Last year, the staff went away, and me Tabby and Ginger Tail were sentenced to two weeks without remission in Stalag Colditz - a terrible place, run by the evil camp commandant. I will tell you all about this place on another day. However, as we are blessed with visitors this Christmas, I am assuming that we won't have to serve another stretch for the time being.
Christmas is a funny time of year - all common sense seems to go out of the window. When I was a lad, my great uncle Porky told me about something called pantomime. Now, you will have to pay attention here because it all gets very confusing! It's a bit like a play at the theatre, but with some subtle differences - one or more of the leading ladies is played by an ugly man who wears women's clothes and is called the dame, the leading young man is played by a woman wearing tights and is called the principal boy, and two men dress up as a horse. Are you still with me? All sounds a bit x-rated to me, but would you believe it, the audience is mainly children!

My Uncle Porky told me that he was in the theatre, and for one panto season was understudy to Dick Whittington's cat. He also went for the starring part in Puss-in-Boots. He got right through to the final audition before he let himself down badly. The director said to him, "Porky, which role do you want?" Quick as a flash, "sausage, sausage roll!" he replied without thinking. Unfortunately that was virtually the end of his career, apart from a minor role years later in the West End musical Cats (I understand that he was employed backstage to keep the mice under control). I think I should have gone into acting. I could have starred as Jess, opposite Postman Pat don't you think?
Well that's your lot for today. I think I need to keep a very close eye on this Christmas lark. There could be some nasty surprises in the offing. Need to watch my back as they say - is that why they shout "he's behind you!". What a life! AlbertThe(black & white)Cat.

Good Ideas Can Seriously Damage Your Health!

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

Well, it now appears that Ginger Tail - "my stupid sister" thought it would be a good idea to play a little joke. Her report of the proceedings was a complete fabrication. She made the whole lot up. I smelt a rat (so to speak), when I saw her and "my poncy brother", Tabby, whispering to each other and then giggling. "What's afoot" I asked - "about twelve inches" chuckled Tabby as he dived for cover under the bed - Oh how they laughed!

Ginger Tail only let on when I bribed her with half a dozen of my reserve stash of prawns - what is this world coming to, deception and dishonesty all around. It was hard work pilfering those prawns while "the housekeeping staff" had their backs turned. They saw me eyeing them up and "the one I don't trust" said "No" in a very stern voice. All of us cats understand that when humans say "no" what it really means is "not when I'm looking".

Naturally I am livid, but at least I don't need to concern myself about the diet for the time being. In fact, prawns were in plentiful supply this morning. I've told "my stupid sister", that next time she has a good idea she could end up covered in concrete. Good ideas can be very bad for your health. I've tried to avoid having good ideas ever since my great uncle Porky, a very wise cat, told me that when you have a good idea you end up covered in concrete! He had a good idea once, he thought it was a good idea to take a nap inside a cement mixer - he woke up covered in concrete.

Do not fear, I will get my revenge on the other two. Who was it that said "revenge is a dish best served cold"? Of course, it was me, I just said it.

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

Return of Old Big Head

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

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

He is really making the most of it though - he has "the pretty one" eating out of his hand which is ironic really, as he is quite literally eating out of hers - all he has to do is give her that self-pitying look and she feeds him extra prawns. It is beneath contempt. She is so gullible though and being such a deceitful cat he is milking it for all it is worth. The only good news is that his head is still swollen - it looks gruesome. Here are before and after pictures - you see what I mean?

I find this hilarious, especially as he fancies himself as a pretty boy. I'm amazed he has the nerve to go out. I very kindly offered to make two holes in a brown paper bag so he could wear that - a noble gesture I thought, but one that was thrown straight back in my face. How rude, typical of him though. I ought to be getting king prawns as well. It is very cruel making me sit here and watch him bolt them down. "The housekeeping staff" need to be careful. What they don't realise is that through the offices of Twitter, I have a direct line to the good people at the Cats Protection League. By the way, you can follow me on Twitter as well - look for AlbertTheCat.

Here's a funny thing - something I have observed every time they come back from visiting "the bloke who sticks needles in us once a year" - I hate him. "The one I don't trust" always waves a piece of paper about, mutters a few strange words, then quotes a large number in pounds sterling, before using the term "money for old rope". I wonder what this is all about. Can anyone enlighten me!

Well that's my lot for today. All we can hope for is that "my poncy brother" has a relapse, but knowing my luck he will make a swift recovery. To show my displeasure, I think I will go outside and find something unpleasant to bring in and deposit under the bed. I'll probably dig up a few plants while I am out there. What a life! Albert the Cat.

Old Big Head!

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's the lot for today. Come back tomorrow, and I will let you know how Old Big Head got on. What a life! Albert the Cat.

The Battle of Wounded Knee

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

My poncy brother and stupid sister

Things are going from bad to worse around here. Both of the housekeeping staff were up and out early this morning, before I had even gone to bed (it was a very busy night, but more about that later). The "one that I don't trust" failed in his duties, so there were no breakfast prawns for me. A very serious case of neglect - I may contact the Cat's Protection League. To make things worse, when "the pretty one" came back, that poncy brother of mine was all over her like a rash. I've never seen fawning like it - rubbing round her legs, making pitiful squeaks, purring, licking, etc. - a truly nauseating performance. Then guess what, she only goes and gives him a handful of prawns. She falls for it every time. When I arrived on the scene they had all gone. To calm my fury, I immediately rushed to the newly painted shed and scratched it for all I was worth. Just so you can see what I am up against, here is a picture of my poncy brother in one of his more sickening poses.
Eventually "the one I don't trust" returned. He is on very thin ice! To try and get back in my good books, he did at least give me some prawns - better late than never, but my poncy brother and stupid sister both got in on the act. As you can imagine, my poncy brother is full of himself - keeps telling anyone that will listen that he has had double prawns today - I can't stand him.

As I was saying earlier, it was a very busy night. Between the three of us, we managed to catch a small rat. Not much of a challenge for a cat of my hunting skills, but a bit of sport none the less. I supervised from the top of the shed, while my troops did the dirty deed. The housekeeping staff are strangely unreceptive to this sort of thing. I'll never forget the time I brought them a dead blackbird to the bedroom. They were most ungrateful, considering it was still warm. Bearing this in mind, I left explicit instructions for my stupid sister to dispose of the evidence. What did she do? Left the damn thing in the middle of the lawn. Guess who got the blame - yes me.
This is my stupid sister looking at my computer screen. She does the same with mirrors you know - I rest my case!

Well that's my lot, I doubt if there's much chance of any more prawns today so I think I'll clear off for a few hours and sleep on the neighbours shed. They are bound to worry about me, but they should have thought about that earlier. See you tomorrow. I may tell you something about the old man - a fine ginger tom. Albert The Cat.