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

Friday, May 14, 2004


Okay, it's been a while. But I'm a busy cat. And, frankly, there hasn't been a great deal to report. I walk up the stairs, I walk down the stairs, I sleep, I wake up, I eat, I poo. I accept that I am a highly cultured individual and I could have turned this into a review website for the latest novel/film/play etc, but it's SO been done.

However, in recent times, there have been some interesting developments, and I felt it was worth sharing these with you.

In April, the gruesome twosome disappeared for days. It could have been a holiday, or it could have been their exasperation at me pooing on their bed every single day. Now personally, I would just like to say that I don't just poo on anybody's bed and they should have realised that I was merely extending the Paw of Friendship. Or Poo of Friendship, in this case.

Still, an opportunity to spread my legs was rudely interrupted by a white-haired lady and a rather tall gentleman who kept coming in and wiping stuff on the walls and window frames. And they say my poo smells! This stuff was very smelly, in an unpleasant chemically kind of way, and left white marks on the old paws when I tried to work out what it was.

Eventually, I realised it was paint, but the whole thing was very dull. I've had more fun watching poo dry.

These people turned out to be the Landlords. A funny name, but I guess not everyone can be called Smith.

Anyhow, the less-than-dynamic duo returned after about a week, then proceeded to turn the place upside down, assisted by a funny-looking bloke with mousey hair (don't worry, I didn't try to eat it!) Then, before I could figure out what was going on, ol' Mouseyhead had taken their bedroom (aka MY room), and shut the door. The cheek!

A very disturbed night followed. Who was the stranger? Why was he here? Why hadn't she bothered to change my litter tray (which frankly looked like a toilet by this stage)?

Morning brought more disruption. Everything was piled up in the dining room and the living room. Not very practical! Then, she came back with a van and they put all the stuff into it. This took a considerable amount of effort, and they must have been trying to keep a track of things, because at various points they would shout 'Count!' at the items they moved when they dropped them. I think they said 'Count'...

And then they were gone. And I was left with Mouseyhead. I decided to keep the proverbial low profile while I tried to figure out his intentions.

Fat and Fatter came back the next day, minus the van and at this point I realised that these changes might effect me, too. Especially at the moment when I was brutally pushed into a box with no bedding bar a bit of old rag. So much for the Geneva Convention - I had no more rights than those miserable bastards in Guantanemo Bay.

I was then taken out to the car, and I had to sit next to himself while she drove me away.

And that was it. No time to say goodbye to... well, OK, I'm not exactly going to say goodbye to the furniture, but it's the principle of the thing that counts.

They stopped off for a short while a few minutes later. Something must have been said, because after we drove off, he opened the door of the cage and I was allowed to roam to some extent. At least someone is concerned about human rights.

Now, they assumed I was feeling much happier. Rubbish. When you feel you're being kidnapped or some such, you keep your head down, and carefully take note of the buildings that you pass in case of future police investigations. Just because I was lying down didn't mean I was lying down, if you see what I mean.

After about three hours (with not a catnap to be had), we finally arrived at a new building. I was smuggled in, once more confined to the box, and covered with a quilt. Probably camera crews to be avoided etc - see the shit that's been going down over the Iraq abuse photos. A defenceless cat being kidnapped would have caused uproar.

We entered a very modern, but sparsely furnished flat, with a single room upstairs. Clearly, this room would be mine. I was then allowed to move around under my own steam while they returned to the car to get more equipment.

It was at this point that I knew I needed to get onside with my captors. So, I went over to the quilt and pooed on it.

She went potty when they came back in. Once again, dear friends, the Poo of Friendship had been rejected. I now knew it would take all my cat cunning to handle the situation.

After a nap, of course.