Yay! We’re home alone and we can do whatever we like!
What? She said we have to behave? Spoil-sport!
Well, She hasn’t arf been rushin’ abart. Blimey! She was movin’ faster than Rusty when he went up the fence to chase the cat wot scratched me in the minces.
We’ve ‘ad washing machines churning like mad an’ The Man was out there wiv some noisy thing. Stinky, too, an’ it’s chopped all the grass where we go pouncing. Still, She did get rid of some sticks that were interferin’ wiv the hunting.
She’s taken this.
Damn’ good job, we reckon, cos She keeps followin’ us wiv it, then She gets ratty when we want to ‘ave a closer look at it.
And she come ‘ome, all excited, wiv this:
It’s a birfday present, She says, from ‘er friend. We ‘ad a good sniff an’ we don’ like it cos it smells of ‘er friend’s dog! But She says it’s for writng an’ drawing in. Boring, we reckon! An’, anyway, it’s OUR birfday, not ‘ers!”parently, we are now one year old. Did we get a present? Did we ‘eck!
So…’ere we are, abandoned. No midnight snacks, none of wot She calls “elevenses” an’ no cuddles. But She says they’ll be ‘ome on October 5th. An’ until then, we ‘ave to be good cats.
Bloody ‘ell! Where’s the fun in that!
Geiger, Sporran an’ Rusty.
Geiger an’ Sporran wrote this cos Rusty can’t be bovvered!
Course, we don’ know abart birfdays, but, ‘parently, we are now one year old.