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

Wednesday, October 30, 2002

Pure vanity

He's been chuckling his little head off over this piece of Mills and Boon-esque literature he found on the web this week...

"Hey, guys. Watch out for the tide. Oh, you haven’t met my friend, Rob, have you? Kara, Julia, meet Rob Lyons.”
Both their mouths dropped open. “The Rob Lyons?”
“El Tigre? Emily, you stinker, keeping him all to yourself.”
“No wonder you wouldn’t hang out with us. Can I get a picture of you together?”
Emily backed up a step, switching her gaze from her gushing friends to Rob’s annoyed frown. “I don’t understand…”
The boat…El Tigre...belonged to…the rock star… No wonder everyone on the island knew him. He was their local celebrity. His staff must have had nightmares arranging all the spur-of-the-moment private activities the past nine days. Only minutes ago, Rob had told her, ‘ I have more than enough for both of us.’
Of course he did. He was probably a millionaire many times over. How could she have been so stupid not to recognize the connection? Oh, Lord, she’d had the nerve to tell him and his friends they should take their show on the road, and they’d laughed, not with her, but at her. And she had thought she’d been so clever.
Before she could command her feet to run, he clamped his hand around hers, forcing her to stand next to him and smile while Julie snapped their picture.
When they finally left the two couples, Emily chided her naiveté. “How could anyone on the planet besides me not know Rob Lyons and El Tigre are one and the same?” "

And so it goes on. He'll no doubt be hitting that wooden stringed thing and squawling again, just to prove he really can a rock star. Where are the earplugs?

Rock the boat, baby! by Liz Hunter

Boo hoo...

The first living thing in space (at least, that had come from planet Earth) was a dog called Laika, sent up by the Russians on Sputnik II. It was previously thought that Laika had survived for a week in a crudely air-conditioned capsule, whizzing round the planet. It turns out that the erstwhile Moscow stray had died after only a few hours from overheating and stress.

Well, while the dog-lovers of the world are sobbing into their cornflakes, I want to speak on behalf of the embittered cats of this mortal coil who, frankly, have had to take a lot of shit from dogs over the years. Obviously, I was OK because I could handle myself in a scrap but many cats are made of more delicate stuff. And they have suffered.

Until dogs learn to respect cats properly, this pussy will be staying dry.

First dog in space died within hours, BBC News Online, 28 October 2002

Tuesday, October 29, 2002


This is not funny.

Pint-sized cat?

So stop laughing.

Conkers. It's bonkers.

On Saturday, they started making food. Well, she started making food. Then she got stressed. Then she sent him to the shops. Then she sent him to the shops again. And not one, not ONE treat for yours truly! There was this whole table full of food, which looked very nice I must say, and I naturally assumed they'd both decided to blow their diets and eat a lot in one sitting.

Then all these people came. At least one was very familiar. He was the one they called 'Ratboy' at my previous home. Fortunately, he didn't attempt to pick me up the way he did there or he would have got the fat end of my paw across his chops. Then there was that woman they called 'Server-LAN'. Still seems a silly name to me. Oh yes, and there was an elderly gentleman with no hair.

They sat in the dining room stuffing all the food into their faces and then went outside to play 'conkers'. This involves taking the nuts that fall off trees, making a hole in them (making a fuss, more like), tying string through them, then hitting them against each other. Difficult to work out what bit was the actual game. BFFP seemed to win by making tea, so not sure what the nuts were for. Then they all came back in again and ate cake before leaving to go to the pub. Fortunately, BFFP came back in a fit state this time. Maybe she's learned her lesson...

Self-congratulation is a dangerous business

I've been doing this for a whole month and then I leave it for nearly a week! What a muppet. Still, it's been a busy few days...