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

Friday, November 29, 2002


I got sent this picture from a nice lady in Edinburgh.

I'd like to make it abundantly clear that the cat featured ain't me. And never would be.

I'm too pretty to get that shitty.

(Sorry, that was a bit street, wasn't it?)

Wednesday, November 27, 2002

Wednesday morning, 6 am

I can hear the soft breathing of the girl that feeds me.
As she lies here beneath me asleep with the night
And her hair in a dull fog floats on my pillow
Reflecting the glow of the winter moonlight

She is soft, she is warm, but my heart remains heavy
And I watch as her breasts gently rise, gently fall
For I know with the first light of dawn I'll be leaving
Booted out for peeing on the bed, no doubt

(Fluffy 2002, after Paul Simon)

Wasting away...even faster

She claims she's broke, so she can't buy me any cat food. So what I get instead are some oily pieces of fish. "If you like it so much, YOU eat it!" I miaowed without the slightest recognition from her. I'll just take it easy today, I guess.