You gotta be kiddin' me.

So right, here's the skinny. The cat diseases scam backfired. Didn't get back to my fan club at the Dick Vet and now I'm having to beg for food. Gah! I keep them safe from Hitler cat and what do I get for my pains?

Anyway, speaking of food, you'll never guess what I overheard Ms Scab Remover saying yesterday? "The stair oyds'll make him hungry."

"Make him hungry"? "Make him hungry!" What on earth do they want to make me even hungrier for? I'm already hungrier than a black hole and I'm not talking about the one at the Chubster's rear end which, I'll have you know, ain't never seen no pixie dust. There's a reason I've banned him from the indoor facilities.

But back to the point? What kind of cruel, infeline creatures want to starve me? Even when they do get round to feeding me I get seasoning on the food. I sure as fuzz don't know what's in those powders but I tell you what, if they ever try to feed me "Waitrose Lamb with Mint Sauce" again I'll have something to say. I don't want no fancy, foreign rubbish. Just give me meat and jelly and lots of it. I got 2 months on the mean streets of Musselburgh to make up for and an Assma habit to maintain.

Today

Today I will be mostly sleeping on the nubbles.

Bugger

Catdiseases.com came up with the goodies - assma. Don't exactly know what it is but apparently if I threw up on the duvet and gasped a lot then I could have assma. Easy! I did have to skip breakfast and you don't know how hard that is but when love calls you gotta make sacrifices.
And I thought it had worked.
The humans got worried and the pink cat carrier came out. The chubster skidaddled - the little fella really don't like it - and I could see Fraulein Schwarz already. Soon I would be at the Dick Vet with my fan club. No chubster to pounce on me when I'm trying to get some shut-eye, no woman picking the scabs off my head and loads of people to come around and tell me how great I am and I could sit on meine Fraulein's lap as she called me Indy Boy. Oh I love it when she calls me Indy Boy.
Then it went wrong. The male simply picked up the carrier and took me to the nearby vet. No Dick Vet for me. Just some old fella with one of them cold things that they love to stick where the fur don't grow so plush. Brrr I hate that. Then another needle in the back of the neck and I'm sent back here to the chubster and his weird forward-pointing tail. There ain't no justice.

Iz limpin'

Am savin' mah energy for mah next big disease. Reckon I prob'ly need a big disease to get back to the vet school and the cute German vet who runs mah fan club. Went out tonight anyway, lookin' for Hitler Cat. Found him. Beat him up some, but he's a mean ole boy, is Hitler. Got a bit of a clobberin'. Things is different here from at the vet school. Vet school; I'da been fussed over by Anita an' Kerry. Here, I gets mah split paw dunked in a bowla water.



Iz bit sore. Iz limpin'.

Iz also kinda hungry.

I'm in love with a German film star

I miss my fan club. Ain't no one around here to talk in a German accent to me. The humans do their best by calling me "Indy boy" but it's just not the same and the chubster just meeps all day. I'm off to look at catdiseases.com to see what I can get next. Gotta get back to the Dick Vet.