Nosy Neighbours !

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

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

I have subsequently discovered what went on. I sent my "stupid sister" Ginger Tail, back to spy. She sat on the windowsill and observed everything (see picture). The three kids ran amok - apparently one of them even played with my toy mouse - he was chewing it. If only they knew where that had been, it would have certainly wiped the smile of mum's face... Ho Ho. Worse is to come. Ginger Tail's cover was blown. She was spotted and the conversation turned to cats. One of the woman, the troublemaker, said:-

"I've seen that cute little ginger tailed one on my garden shed, along with a nice looking tabby. Are they yours".

"Yes" says the "pretty one".

"They're lovely" the woman said, "but what about the big fat black and white one who digs up my flowerbed - is he one of yours as well?"

Big! fat! - what a cheek. I don't hold out much hope for the herbaceous borders in her garden next spring. The real problem however as regular readers will realise is that the possibility of being put on a diet is back at the top of the agenda. I thought this outrage had died a natural death, but just one ill informed comment has undone all my good work. It has reinforced "the pretty one's" misguided view that I am overweight. Surely it can't come to this. I barely survive on what they give me at the moment. Think I'll go and console myself with a few cat biscuits. I can't imagine there is much chance of any prawns today now. Only hope is to use my irresistible charm on the "pretty one" - it usually works. How can she resist.

Well that is definitely the lot for today. Much to think about. Let's hope we have a quiet day tomorrow. What a Life! AlbertTheCat.

Only Nine Lives!!

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

I am getting a little concerned that the "housekeeping staff" are not showing me enough respect. They are getting ideas above their station. I discussed this the other night with the wise old black tom from down the road. He's in charge of the Feline Local Education Association (FLEA for short). We call him "Chairman Meow". He said that they should be more like the ancient Egyptians who actually worshipped cats - we were looked on as gods. This seems to me to be a most satisfactory arrangement. Apparently when cats died in Ancient Egypt they were mummified and chucked into the pyramid along with the Pharaohs. Now this came as a terrible shock to me, because I had no idea that we died - I thought this was purely a human characteristic, and once they had passed their sell by date, then us cats just acquired another one.

This is me pontificating the prospect of mortality. I was quite taken aback, so much so, that I needed to go for a lie down in a darkened room. On reflection though us cats do have nine lives, which is eight more than humans, so I've probably got a while to go yet. I wonder how many I have used up so far? A worrying thought!

All this thinking is making me tired, so I will sign off for today. I will return tomorrow. What a Life - all nine of them! AlbertTheCat.

Daft things humans say !

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

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

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

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

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

The Demon Drink!

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

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

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

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

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

Malnutrition

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

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

Talking of fingers, have I told you that both me and "my poncy brother" have got six fingers on each front paw, with toes to match. I'm led to believe that this is a sign of good breeding and indicates a rich and diverse family tree - well that's what my dad told me, and he should know - he reckoned that just by taking his socks off, he could count up to twenty four, and do you know what, he is right - I don't know of any other cat that can count beyond twenty.

Anyway, I digress, back to the serious matter in hand. This morning, "the pretty one" also said I was getting fat - I knew I should never have let her pick me up - won't make that mistake again! I can't be fat, I can still squeeze through the cat flap, although I do feel they have made it smaller recently, either that or there has been a some serious subsidence. The picture below is me exiting stage right through the flap. Despite what "my stupid sister" says, it was not necessary to use a crowbar and half a tin of axle grease to get me out!!

I have researched the matter on the internet and found an article that says over 40 % of cats are obese. Who writes this rubbish, it certainly wasn't a cat. How on earth do humans know the ideal weight of a cat. As we all know, the bigger the better, must keep our strength up. If a cat had written this, the conclusion would have been that 60% of cats are underweight and need extra prawns. My lot are obsessed with diets, "the pretty one" in particular. Always going on about not eating this or can't eat that, and then she goes and eats a plate of chips or a piece of cake - a mystery to me.

The final straw was when I heard "the one that I don't trust" mention exercise - well as you can imagine, I came over all faint, I mean what do they think I am - a dog or something. Walking from the settee to the bedroom between naps, back and forth to the food bowl, and an occasional stroll round the estate are more than adequate for even the most energetic cat. I'm out of breath just thinking about it.

Now you can see why I am a bit late today - I have been out making contingency plans. I've discovered that next doors dog, the nasty yappy little Jack Russell, has a bowl of food in the garden. I have made a note of the time he gets taken for his daily walk. Beggars can't be choosers, and I'm quite partial to a dog biscuit occasionally. The other hope is Quasimodo, who I told you about yesterday - he has a bowl of food in his garden shed, and the door is often open - rich pickings here I think, although prawns may be a bit thin on the ground.

Well that's it for another day. Feel free to send food parcels, preferably ones containing prawns of course. What a life! AlbertTheCat.

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.

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.

He fell off the wall!

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

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


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

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

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

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

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.

The beautiful game

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strange human customs

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

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

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

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

My poncy brother

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

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

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

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

Lazy Sunday

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

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

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