Sunday, 29 March 2009
Remarkably enough I have enjoyed more than an hour without being made to eat a pill, drink the yellow milk or even being puffed. If only the little, grey pest wasn't hurtling around the place like a jumping bean with St Vitus' Dance, my life would be almost tolerable.
Update. I was wrong. They found something else. Held me down and doused the back of my neck with some sort of chemical. Now, everywhere I go, flies drop dead. Tried sneaking up on that fat pigeon again but it could smell me coming. Rats.
Sunday, 22 March 2009
This is me and Mr Indy hanging out together. You can see the way he likes to look all big and fluffy and how much he likes to chill with me. He still doesn't talk much, due to the "war wounds" and the humans do give him lots of pretty coloured pills as well as the special face mask thing. They never give me pills. Mr Indy keeps offering to let me have some; sometimes he holds onto them in his cheek pockets for ages and leaves them for me. They never taste too good by that point but I don't mind because it just proves how much Mr Indy likes me.
Though sometimes his head bobbles and his eyes get all wide then I have to hide because he attacks the house.
Sunday, 1 March 2009
It's cold and snowy out there. No way is it fit for a cat of my sensy, sensya um me. And Mr Man and Mr Woman are making it hard for me to blog because they keep going off and doing things and making something they call a "wedding blog."
I've no idea how anything can be more important than helping me blog. I might have to give that some deep thought on Mr Man's academic chair. Mr Man always thinks best when his eyes are closed so there's no distractions and as Mr Man is the brainiest human in the universe then I better copy him.
Oh and Mr Indy's back on his fat pills. He keeps waddling all over the place taking about water retention and how he would give Felix a good thumping if only he could squeeze out of the window.
That's all for now. Back to thinking. Ash signing out.