It's in black and white

This koo business is starting to confuse me and, I'll have you know, I'm not easily confused. You see my humans went to see a koo so I thought they were bringing back a friend for Mr Indy. But this koo is black and white.
Apparently it's a Ger Man as well and not a kuh at all. Scamp, my friend from outside who fancies me said "ceci n'est-pas un kuh" because she's really brainy. Thing is, if it's a Ger Man then Mr Indy will like it because he it will remind of him of Anita vet. Then again it's black and white like evil Hitler cat so Mr Indy will have to fight it! What's a little cat to think?

Credit crunch?

Are Mr Man and Mr Woman getting desperate? I've heard them talking about the credit crunch, but I think that sounds biscuity and delicious, and it makes me hungry. I hope they're not going to run out of money. I've heard Mr Man threatening to buy cheap Tesco cat food, but Mr Woman won't let him.




He did pimp me on teh interwebs though. And now he's pimping Deshar! He'll never pimp Mr Indy, though. He's not flexible enough to turn upside down.

I am not a koo!

Great! Get stuck outside all night only to find out that A.D.D. cat has me confused with a koo. He has of course never seen a koo. In fact if he got even one glimpse of a koo he would be straight on the case beneath the bed and start meeping at me to deal with it. He's all big and brave until something shows up and then it's "Mister Indy! Mister Indy! Get Hitler cat! Beat up Stubbs! Go frighten the barker!"

Don't get a moment to breathe around here.

Flat out!

Mr Man says Mr Woman has been pimping me around teh intertoobz at something called "Upside down kitties." Mr Man says that I have to earn my keep and if the only way I can bring home a crust is by lying on my back then that's how it'll have to be. Don't really understand why I should bring home a crust. I have brought home pork chops, blue sponges and silver balls in the past but they never seemed to want one of them.

Humans are strange sometimes.

I guess I better tell you that they took Mr Indy away in the pink cage again! Nooooo! Luckily they brought him back. He didn't say much afterwards but then he never does. His breathing has been a little funny though. Apparently Mr Woman took some pictures of Mister Indy in Dundy. I could have sworn he was in the house all along though.

Supercat!

This is me being faster than a speeding bullet and able to leap small objects in a single bound!

Mister indy!

What have you been doing? I don't know what to think anymore.

Carpet muncher

Tweet this way!

I've been getting loads of new furry friends on twitter. I don't exactly know what twitter is though Mr Desh once explained that it's a place where lots of sock puppets hang out so I would fit right in. Mr Desh liked saying brainy things like that that made my head spin. He could even do hay-koo. Apparently Mr Woman says hello to koos too whenever she goes to Dundy. I've never seen a koo in real life, unless you count Mr Indy of course. He doesn't have horns but otherwise he's quite close.

I think I must have lots of friends because I'm beautiful and talented and modest. See, that's me being fierce in order to scare off nasty black and white cat. Of course he wasn't actually there, or anywhere near there, at the time but that was just lucky for him.

Oh, Mr Man said I need to explain what I mean about Mr Indy and koos so I took this photo to help explain.
Anyway, I just wanted to say that I know I'm fabulous but it's always nice to hear it and, while you're at it, tell my humans that they keep accidentally locking me into the living room at night. I wouldn't mind but Mr Indy does snore something awful and sometimes he goes a bit mad and attacks the carpet. He says there's a monster beneath it but that's only because he's trying to scare me and I don't scare easily. I ain't afraid of no ghost.

Mother?!

Mr Woman's gone strange. I think she might be my mother after all. She's very furry and she doesn't like cold any more than I do. Don't know where her tail is though. Maybe she lost some of it because Mr Man often says that she's a great bit bit of tail. Wonder what happened to the rest of it?

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.