A Night on the Tiles.....

What a night! As we were hoping, "the one I don't trust" cleared off yesterday evening. Not sure where he went, but I think he met up with some of his pals, or lowlife as I prefer to call them. Anyway, no sooner was he out the door, than my plan for a cultural evening at home with a select few of the local cats swung into action like a well oiled machine. Word was put out on the bush telegraph (I stuck my head out of the flap and mewed loudly), and the guests started to arrive. My poncy brother and my stupid sister were first. I didn't really want to ask them, but as I let them live here with me, I felt obliged to. They were closely followed by wise Old Black Tom. He is a very clever cat, and knows everything. "Where are Mad Harry and Slasher Sid" I asked. "No idea" he replied.

Not to worry, they soon turned up. A strange aroma preceded them - they had bought a tasty pair of half eaten kippers with them, carefully selected from a neighbours bin. How thoughtful. "You might need some of these" said Harry. "Most kind" I replied, "we are fresh out." They put them on the settee for safe keeping. Next, we heard a jingling bell sound, and Quasimodo shot through the flap looking nervously over his shoulder. Now, for new readers, you need to be aware that he has been driven insane by a little bell on his collar! "I'm being chased by an ice cream van" he cried as he dived for cover under the table, knocking over a pot plant in the process. At that very moment, there was a ring on the doorbell, and Quasimodo took the very wise precaution of climbing up the curtains, which duly fell down, along with the curtain rail. "Who was that at the door" I asked. "No idea" said Old Black Tom.What a terrible example of shoddy workmanship I thought. Not surprising though, I remember "the one I don't trust" putting the the curtain rail up just after we moved here. It was a real bodge job - he drilled the holes too big, and when he thought "the pretty one" wasn't looking, he bunged them up with bits of newspaper. He then employed a rarely used advanced technique to insert the screws - a two pound club-hammer! There's an awful lot more I can tell you about his DIY efforts, but that can wait until another day.

Anyway, we digress. Things were in full swing and we had started the party games. Our favourite is a slight variation of pin the tail on the donkey - we call it pin the collar on Quasimodo. It was great fun once we managed to catch him - Oh how we all laughed, well most of us. The game was brought to an abrupt halt by a loud crash from the kitchen. Harry had been taking a drink from the sink, when the large pile of dirty plates, dishes etc, that have accumulated over the last few days collapsed on to the floor. This came as quite a shock to Sid, who at the same time was turning out the contents of the garbage bin on to the very same floor. "Makes it easier to sort through" he advised later. Well, you can imagine the mess.Disaster! I heard a key turn in the front door. "The one I don't trust" had come home early - you really can't rely on him. He was not impressed with the sight that greeted him - smelly kippers on the settee, curtains and plaster all over the floor, the kitchen covered in garbage and broken crockery. You should have seen the scramble for the cat flap. I wouldn't have thought it possible that so many cats could get out of such a small hole in so little time. We reassembled on the back wall. The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry - who was it who said that? "Robert Burns" said Old Black Tom. "No, it couldn't have been him" I replied, "he wasn't invited. It must have been me!" Perhaps Old Black Tom is not so clever after all.

Oh well, that's my lot for today. When I crept back indoors a little later, I think he had forgiven us, because I heard him mutter under his breath "wait till I get hold of those three." I expect he is missing us and just wants to give us a cuddle - so that's nice isn't it! What a life! AlbertThe(party animal)Cat.

Take Time to Smell the Roses........

Just a quick post today. I am very busy. Voting closes this evening, and I have to ensure all my supporters have turned out. Not only that, but I have to finish off my victory speech for when the results are announced tomorrow - it is coming along really well, you certainly won't want to miss it. The final campaign rally went down a storm last night. There was a massive turn out of Old Black Tom, Quasimodo, a couple of mangy strays and next doors snappy little Jack Russell.

I decided to take the morning off from campaigning, especially when I saw the sun shining. After a pleasant breakfast of prawns and biscuits, I had just settled down for a nice nap on the shed roof, when lo and behold, "the one I don't trust" decided to do a bit of gardening, "a last tidy up of the year" I heard him say. I really could have done without it to be honest, but I thought I ought to keep an eye on things - supervise if you like, after all I know a bit about horticulture. Nothing like a good dig is there! He raked all the leaves up, chopped out some dead growth, and weeded the flower beds. Very good of him - it should make it a little easier for me to get to the young saplings for a spot of scratching.
Now comes the interesting bit - he had these six great big bags of the most foul, pungent stuff you could imagine. Not sure what it is, but it smells like the stuff pigs would be happy in, if you get my drift! "What's that awful pong" said Ginger Tail as she walked past with Tabby - "it reminds me of Bert's speech last night" said "my poncy brother". What can he have meant by that? Strong and powerful I expect. Anyway, "the one I don't trust" started spreading it all over the place, under the roses, digging it into the borders, the vegetable patch, and then would you believe he goes and puts some on his rhubarb - "why can't he have custard like everyone else" I thought - Oh how I laughed. Must write that one down, I might be able to use it in my victory speech!

There is a serious point here - it will soon be time for me to have a roll before lunch - no not ham roll, a roll and dig in the flower bed I mean. I have a very bad feeling that if I should go for a clean-up on the duvet afterwards, there may very well be severe consequences for him. Someone is likely to catch it in the neck from "the pretty one". Clearly he hasn't thought this through at all. Anyway, I have far more important things to worry about - it's his problem.

Well that's my lot for today. It's all I've got time for. Off to do a bit of last minute campaigning before the polls close. Don't forget, there is still time for you to vote for me. I hope to see you all again tomorrow to celebrate my pending victory. Once more for the last time - Yes we can..., Yes we can..., Yes we can..... What a Life! AlbertThe(horticultural)Cat.

The Bells, The Bells !!!

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

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

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

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