The news of the day as seen from the perspective of a pensionable domestic moggy called Fluffy.

Saturday, September 28, 2002

Higher thoughts

OK, so this site has been getting a bit bogged down with my bodily functions over the last few days but I want to assure you, dear reader, that I am in fact a sophisticated cat. As I sit, paws battering away at the keyboard, Grieg's Piano Concerto playing on Classic FM, I realise that there's just a little more to me than meets the eye. The reason that I'm often so tired is that I'm expending a great deal of mental energy trying to resolve the problems of the world. You know, designing a simple and low-cost flood defence for Bangladesh. Working through a philosophical case against the possible war in the Middle East. Wondering which particular novel by Joyce I should read next.

Then I yawn, lick my own arse and go to sleep.

It's getting cold

So much for global warming! It's definitely a bit nippy downstairs at night now. She insists on leaving all the windows open. He refuses to stick the heating on. Come on, guys! Sort it out! It's very difficult to relax and sleep for 20 hours a day if I'm shivering! Luckily, I haven't lost all my bedroom privileges and frankly, those two produce so much heat just by sleeping that I can stay pretty snug in there. Just got to remember to go down to the litter tray when I need to and I can keep my cushy number going.


I thought they were staying out all night, so when I had a little accident in the living room, I thought I could leave it and clean it up later. She's getting quite concerned about my colonic well-being and I didn't really want to give her another excuse to fret.

But they came back... and the room, frankly, whiffed a bit. Now I'm going to be put back on crunchy rations, just when I was getting used to the meat. It's a dog's life being a cat.

Friday, September 27, 2002


The cat pictured here is not me. It is an imposter, attempting to establish a web presence in its own right. I mean, there's fluffy and then there's fluffy.

I would never appear on a site for cute cats. I'm downright sexy, not cute, and I can still shake my booty with the best of them (although I have no sexual desire as such due to the much-mentioned operation).

Chewin' the fat

Talking of food, I was taken for a visit down to the quack the other day, so he could fiddle with my insides. The quack and BFFP were yacking for ages about my diet and how cats should really be eating raw fish and chicken. Things are looking up. I'd rather be eating that than something that looks like otter diahorrea spooned out of a can. (OK, I don't know what otter diahorrea looks like, but give a cat a break).

Of course, I bet in ten years time they'll have realised it's all a load of bollocks and raw stuff is just as bad as the tinned stuff but at least I can have a go at a proper dead thing in the meantime. Better try and find the denture fixative...

BFFP was cooing on the way home about how quiet I'd been but frankly I was just bored rigid by the whole conversation. I'll keep my distance from the chattering classes, thank you very much.

Greek tragedy

I was chillin' in the backyard yesterday evening when White Cat sticks his or her head over the fence. I say 'his or her' because frankly I'm a bit uncertain on the gender front these days, especially since I got the snip myself. Anyway, White Cat says they've been tucking into some Greek food next door and would I be interested in having some of the leftovers. Now, up to this point, I've been rather suspicious of the youngster. Don't really understand the ways of young cats but I didn't want the young so-and-so to think I wasn't prepared to let my fur down once in a while and try new things.

Soon enough, I was tucking into half-a-bowl of hummus which was quite nice and tangy, with a hint of garlic.

Well, in the middle of the night, I'm soon getting my comeuppance when I deposit the lot on the rug in the lounge. Must have been a bad batch, I guess. At least, it looked like hummus. Might not have been hummus at all. In fact, maybe I made the whole story up in my head as a form of justification for my misplaced chunder. I can have hallucinations in the night sometimes.

Especially when I eat cheese.

Thursday, September 26, 2002

My calming influence: the scientific facts

Couldn't be bothered to go down the road and buy a newspaper today (especially as I don't have pockets so I've nowhere to keep my money). So instead, I got on line and found this story on BBC News.

"While the idea of a pet as social support may appear to some as a peculiar notion, our participants' responses to stress, combined with their descriptions of the meaning of pets in their lives, suggest to us that social support can indeed cross species," said Dr Karen Allen, who studied the effect of having a pet on stress.

This is not news. Basically, she gets more sense out of me then she does out of him. A reassuring purr, a hug, that kind of thing, usually solves most problems. What does he do, but take the piss? Useless!

May have to email her the article, although having said that she might freak at getting an email from me. Not sure she's entirely genned up on my current online status.

Stressed? Talk to your pet, BBC News, 25 September 2002

Wednesday, September 25, 2002

The dossier

Well, after everyone left the house yesterday, I downloaded the dossier on Iraq. Here are my comments:

  • It's supposed to be 55 pages long. But take away the title pages (2), the tastefully blank pages (7), the executive summary (3), the foreword by Blair (2) and all the stuff not actually to do with the weapons and you get about 23 pages about weapons.

  • Those missiles that we are supposed to be worried about are the same flying dustbins from the Gulf War.

  • The only chance of Iraq using half of this stuff is in a desperate situation when they are cornered and have nothing to lose e.g. a military campaign to enforce 'regime change'.

  • Lots of it says 'could' and 'possibly'.

  • We're told to 'trust' intelligence sources. Yeah, right. I was told to 'trust' the vet, it would 'be OK'. Fat lot of use that was... but maybe I'm drifting off the point.

  • Blair says in his foreword: 'In today’s inter-dependent world, a major regional conflict does not stay confined to the region in question.' So, why is he starting a major regional conflict?

  • It's very difficult to read a report like this on a Nokia Communicator stashed behind a litter tray

And, like, I'm only a cat.

Monday, September 23, 2002

Infected neighbours

Disgraceful. The BFFP mentions casually in passing to the NTNM that the white cat next door is flea-ridden. I knew I had good reason to be suspicious of the young upstart, and yet I was being referred to in very derogatory terms for being conservative and afraid of change. What would have happened if I'd been infected by the little so-and-so? I would have been blamed for bringing fleas into the house. It would be like the Birmingham Six or summat. Fluffy is innocent!

Please leave!

I love attention as much as the next person but I definitely think some hint-dropping might be in order over the way they always take ages to leave the house in the mornings. I was hell-bent (hah!) on buying batteries for me Nokia and getting back in time for Kilroy, and she was down the bottom of the stairs cooing at me. Bugger off! Unless you're prepared to spend the time stroking me etc., then bugger off!

I am enjoying the regular combing, though. Saves on the furballs.

Errr, yuk!

...to quote the NTNM when he saw a furball on the dining room carpet this morning. It's obviously COMPLETELY different from a jobbie. Admittedly, a jobbie or two has gone astray in recent days but that's by-the-by. When is he going to grow up and accept that he's living with an animal (and I don't mean the BFFP)? And he'd puke up the odd furball himself if he had no other means of personal hygiene than a good lick.

Technical hitch

Typical! The batteries on my Nokia Communicator went down over the weekend which means I was unable to update this page. Don't tell me you thought I used a PC for this! A cat, climbing up on to a table having switched on the box and monitor, then using a mouse (!) to manipulate the pages. I don't even know her password. So, please, be realistic. Anyway, I can use my Nokia safely stashed behind the litter tray.