A heavy weekend
They left for a trip last Wednesday night. She was fretting, of course. Interesting: an experienced cat owner who thinks an experienced cat can't look after herself. Meanwhile, I prepared to party....Thursday
I spent a bit of time surveying my kingdom but this became really quite tiring and I had to have a long lie down after six minutes. I proceeded to relax for a further 11 hours before deciding that I should have some fun. I made for the collection of drinks on the sideboard in the dining room but most of them were screwtop bottles and I struggle with them (difficult to get a grip with my paws). Eventually, I found a bottle with a cork. It was Fino sherry. (I thought, at first, it said Fido sherry 'cos I didn't have my specs on - but why would they name a drink after a dog?). Anyway, I managed to pull the cork out and leapt on the floor to drink the flow as the top stuck out over the edge of the sideboard.
Unfortunately, this meant I had little choice but to neck the entire bottle. This was really rather uncomfortable as I had to drag my now full and distended stomach around full of booze. Not for the last time that night, I couldn't get up the stairs.
Within a few minutes, the sherry kicked in and I staggered about the house, miaowing insults about the two fat blobs that I live with and trying to get the fucking telly to work. Telly, work! Ya bastard! Why is there never anything on, when you [hic] want to watch it?! Bwwwooooorrrr. Can't be bothered with all [hic] this shit. I've got rights, you know. I contrrribyoot to this house. They jusht don't give me the reespeckt I diserff.
Oooh. Shuddenly I don't feel sho gudd. I think I'll jusht go have a pee [burp]... ooh, that's what a bit chunkier than the average burp... oooh. Shertainly don't feel too cleffer at all... [note to readers: pensionable domestic moggy crawls into litter tray and shouts at Ralph and Hughie for an hour or so before passing out].Friday
Fucked. My head feels like someone's playing football inside with a lead ball. I've got shit stuck to the fur on the side of my head 'cos I fell asleep in it. I stink of piss but feel too sick to lick it off. I'm crashed out on the dining room floor so that I can make it back to the litter tray easily and I'm in easy reach of a drink. I've been forced to drink out of the 'urinal'.
The light seems very bright today. Having to sleep with my paws over my eyes.Saturday
Still rough. At least I managed some dinner today. Managed to get upstairs to get a proper kip. Woke up after six hours to find I'd pooed on the bed (and myself).
Never, ever again.Sunday
Felt much perkier today. Buried the vomit in the litter tray for what it was worth, although it was mostly liquid anyway (and carrots, strangely). Have almost drunk all the water in the 'urinal'. They will be SO smug when they get back. I need to find a way to undermine their good mood...Monday
They burst in just after noon but they're rushing around like nutters and they simply aren't showing me enough attention. Some comment on the low level of water in the urinal. They start moaning about the poo on the bed. Hey, I've had a HEAVY
Then, they're off to France! Typical! They'd better bring me back some duty-free er... catfood, or summat!
I've just realised that the sherry bottle, whilst back in it's proper position, is empty. I'll just pee into it so they don't notice. Should give them a nice surprise....Tuesday
I have decided to try dysfunctionality as a tactic to get more attention. Poo on the bed again to register my psychological trauma at their absence.
Get turfed out of the bedroom instead. No heart, these bastards.