The Last Post Sadly, on Friday 6 January 2006, Fluffy died. As the previous post indicates, she hadn't been well for a while. After that trip to the vet's, we thought she was getting better but she stopped being able to keep her food down and went into quite steep decline. By Thursday, she was pitifully weak. An emergency trip to the vet provided new food but while she managed to eat it, she

More Fluffy pics.... We're rational people who realise she was only a cat who wasn't a conscious being. We know what 'anthropomorphic' means. But... damn it, she was cute. She could do snoozy.... friendly... even pensive... What's not to love?

Dodging the bullet Bless them, they've been worried about me. It is true that I've been losing weight. It is true I've been acting a bit, well, mental. I'm not my usual nimble self - in fact, I've been nothing if not a bit wobbly on me feet. So, this morning I know there's trouble when The Box reappears from the loft. That means either (a) we're moving house or (b) some overpaid prat is going to

The F-Plan Diet: Eat Yourself Thin The Fluffy Way People say to me, "Fluffy, how come you are so thin when all you do all day is sleep and eat." And I say to them, "Piss off with that moralising tone." But I am exceptionally slim for a moggy of my years. I should be getting fat but instead I'm as springy and sprightly as a flea on speed. How do I do it? Well, my carefully-honed diet consists of

Nobody likes the new design Okay, it is a bit twee, it's obviously been designed by the people that brought you 'Little House on the Prairie'. But it was an emergency cos I ballsed-up the old one.

Popular demand Apparently, there have been complaints. 'Oh, Fluffy, why haven't you updated your blog?' they cry. Well, the main reason is that I'm an elderly cat (or a 'cat of age' as the PC crowd would no doubt say). I've gotta lotta sleepin' to do, and not enough time to do it. There's your fully fledged kip, to be enjoyed on a nice armchair overnight. There's snoozing to be done in the

Homeward bound For me, living in a particular city doesn't mean much. I'm a domestic cat, and as such, I don't get out a lot. However, it's nice to have friends round, but that's only possible when the gruesome twosome are out. But I must admit, my social network is a little stronger in London than it was ever likely to be in Nottingham, so I was quite pleased when it was announced that we were

Blue creature Nervous. Not only is there a red, long-trunked creature in the house. They've got another one. It's blue. (a) Will it attack me? (b) Am I on my way out in favour of these new pets that don't appear to poo or need food (although they can be very noisy). This one is called 'Hoover'. It's a stupid name.

My bum That may appear to be a bald statement, but Swurelykins and Ratboy (who they?) are apparently being rude about my derriere as we speak on an internet chat-type session. Disgraceful.