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

Friday, August 22, 2003

My point of view

She decided to get down to my eye-level this evening, to see things my way. She was rolling around on the living room carpet and poking her nose in my face.

Nothing to do with the huge pizza that had just arrived, then, and the fact that Fatboy had taken up residence on the sofa.

(They tell you one thing, but in reality, it's just their own, selfish agenda...)

Tuesday, August 19, 2003

Fluffy Jones's Diary

Weight: 2.5kg
Alcohol: none
Calories: not many in a bowl of crunchies

Do you think there's a market for the diary of an aging single cat? I think it might capture the zeitgeist.

And who would play me in the film? Renee Zellweggerlegger or whatever her name is wouldn't mind playing me. She wouldn't have to put on 40 pounds to do it. I'm as skinny as a big skinny thing.

The gadget

She's bought a new phone. It's an Ericsson T610. It takes pictures. Lots of pictures. Loads of pictures.

Enough already.

It also plays silly ringtones. Like the Banana Splits theme. This is her new alarm, so it goes off regularly in the mornings.

Enough already.

Gadgets aren't everything, for Pete's sake. Although it might be time to trade in my Nokia Communicator for an iPaq and a GPRS phone... Anyone for Bluetooth?

The local wildlife

I was standing at the backdoor this evening, trying to decide whether to venture out into the garden (not keen at night, I must admit). Then, the back garden light came on. Well, I hid myself in an extremely strategic position so that I could check out what was going on.

A young fox trotted up to the door and had a sniff at their tatty gardening shoes. Then, without a by-your-leave, the fox buggers off with BFFP's shoes! I mean, firstly, it's a blinkin' liberty, snaffling someone's shoes like that. And secondly, BFFP hasn't got the rosiest smelling feet at the best of times. I wouldn't have her old boots near my facial orifice!

Well, they came down the stairs a few minutes later after a bit of a chinwag upstairs (sounded like mostly one-way traffic from BFFP - usually is) and she sees the fox again. Maybe Foxy was back for his shoes, too. Anyway, the cheeky bastard legs it, then she gets him to go outside and investigate the entire situation. Apparently, one very chewed shoe was recovered from the garden and discarded upon inspection.

Whatever happened to the good old days when you could leave your backdoor open, eh? I mean, we didn't have much worth nicking but...