Friday, 20 November 2009


In a queue late? In a bloody queue late my furry ass! Quite literally as it happens. "In a queue late" was actually "innoculate". Have you any idea what "innoculate" means. I'll tell you what it bloody means. It means being dragged to some ridiculously clean and sterile dump, being pinned down by the long man, whom I had previously trusted, and having a dirty great big needle stuck up your backside! Absolutely lovely, mint, fantastic, just bloody marvellous. As much as I'd like to sit here and explain more, I can't, my butt is too bloody sore. Far too sore to sit for any length of time. And so I'm going to lie down in a darkened room and plot my revenge. They'll be sorry, you just mark my words, they'll rue the day they messed with me.

I love biscuits

The big people have been making a right mess of my favourite room, sticking paper to the ceiling and putting funny colours on the wall. I wouldn't mind so much but the colours are really smelly, and now I can't smell the smells I've spent the last couple of weeks depositing all over the floor. It's not fair, I'll have to wee and poo like there's no tomorrow to replenish those odours.
The big dangly thing that hangs in the middle of the ceiling and makes it light when it's dark had to be taken down tonight while they put that paper up, and I heard the long man mention that it works on "elec-trickery", which must be some kind of people magic, all very clever stuff.
The clippy cloppy woman said something intriguing earlier. It seems I'm going to be "in a queue late" tomorrow. I can't wait to find out what I'm queuing for, I hope it's biscuits. I love biscuits.

Wednesday, 18 November 2009

Some day

Wow, what a lovely, lazy day this has been. I hardly stopped licking my bum all morning, very pleasant indeed. Had a bit of a play with one of the little people this afternoon, the one without the metal things on his face. The other one, with the metal things on his face, doesn't seem very playful, we hardly saw him. Maybe he's not eating the right food, or maybe he has worms. I think I'll mention it to the clippy-cloppy woman and get her to take him to the vets for a check up.
I saw a cat in my back yard earlier. I went outside to have a nice poo and a sniff about and there he was, sat on my wall, bold as brass! Obviously I had to have a few stern words with him and I don't think we'll be seeing him around these parts again for a while. At least not if he knows whats good for him, the cheeky, flea bitten, raspy tongued little muppet.
Well, I'm going to entertain my people for a while. I've not bothered with them for a hours because I've been busy posting this blog, which, as you can imagine, what with my paws and the little keys on this laptop, has taken me ages. I think I'll start with a little biting of the long mans fingers, he pretends he doesn't like it but I know he does really, and his fingers taste lovely which makes it a more pleasant experience for me.

Sunday, 15 November 2009

Sadder day

I have no idea why they call this "Sadder day". It's probably the happiest day I've experienced since moving to this dump. A nice lie in and the undivided attention of the long man all day. The little people went out for a while this afternoon, giving us all a nice break. They're lovely, but they're very hard work. And, bless them, I don't think they're all that bright. They only seem to know a few words of English, "get down Ronnie" and "no Ronnie no".

Fried day

Oh, I am getting to like this place. I roll out of bed in the mornings and before I've even finished pooing, weeing and sniffing the skirting boards my breakfast is ready. Not too happy with the obscenely early mornings, but the people all leave the house shortly after breakfast and stay out of my way all day, giving me plenty of peace and quiet.
The lady with the clippy-cloppy shoes was in a rush today and left the door open, allowing me unrestricted access to all areas. It wasn't quite as exciting as I thought it would be, but I did find that I could easily get up onto one of the little peoples bed. It was much comfier than my bed I must say, I think I shall need to take that up with the long man. Not happy at all. A bonus to my new found freedom was the variety of chewable things left strewn across the little peoples floor, and no one to stop me from chewing them!

I discovered it was quite a long way back down to the white paper square, but fortunately there is a long, furry thing on the floor outside the bedroom for me to poo on. It's much softer on my butt cheeks too. Bless him, the long man came home first and, because it's quite dark on the landing, he stepped in my poo and before he had noticed he'd left little poo-ey footprints all the way to my bedroom. I think he was a little hard on himself, shouting and using words that I didn't understand, but I wasn't angry because he did clean it up himself. Hopefully he'll be more careful in the future.


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?


Was pretty lonely, sleeping alone for the first time ever, but at least I didn't have my siblings boney bits sticking in me so, you know, every cloud and all that. The long man and the woman with the clippy-cloppy shoes slept in my room, but up on a big, soft bed, all I had was a tatty old pillow and a blanket. Still, they looked terribly tired so I left them to it, but mark my words, the bed WILL be mine, oh yes, it will be mine!
Had a lovely dream, chasing a cat through a tunnel, and was within a hairs breadth of catching the furry little swine when there was this awful beepity beep beep noise and the long man jumped out of bed. Scared the bloody life out of me.
Started the day with a lovely poo, curled it out majestically on the furry thing near the long man's bed. Was quite proud of myself, but the long man took it away, and I'd been saving it for later. Not in the least bit fair in my opinion, next time I'll hide it under something.
Settled down for a nice snooze, intending to indulge the long man in a bit of nippy, growly fun later when I heard a door slam and found myself alone. And they'd left the bloody radio on, which wouldn't have been so bad but I hate Radio 4. Women's hour was okay though.