Sunday, 15 November 2009


That bloody noise in the morning again, I'll never catch that cat. Same time as before, same shenanigans with him bounding out of the bed. As ever, started the day with a wee and a poo, this time I did it on a big white paper thing and was given a biscuit in exchange for it. Fair exchange is no robbery I suppose, but I do wonder what the long man is doing with all my poo?
Apparently I'm henceforth to be known as "Ronnie". What's all that about? What's wrong with the name my mum gave me? "Grrr-rrrarfff-rrrfff-fffrrrrfffferrr". (Pronounced as its written.) Perfectly good name, and much more feminine. Still, I've found that if I wander in the long mans general direction whenever he says "Ronnie" I get another biscuit. It's all good. Biscuits seem quite thick on the ground around here, he gives them away like, well, biscuits. Don't they know there are starving children in Africa? Still, I do like a nice biscuit, and if we posted them to Africa they'd probably be stale before they arrived. No one likes a stale biscuit do they?

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