In the Dog House

I am truly and deservedly in the dog house - there are no dogs but to be honest i would probably have deserved it if there were. I am a very bad kitty.

Today for her lunch, Blob had chicken.

I like chicken and asked her politely if I could have some.

Now Blob and I quite often come to blows over her food, mainly because it smells so much nicer than mine.

However today when she pushed me away I was a bit more persistent, and this time, when she bawled 'NO!' at me I didnt go and sulk in front of the fire ...

... I didnt do that at all ...

... what i actually did is jump on to her knees, sink all my claws in and hiss and yeowl in her face.

Blob was very upset and not just because she dropped her plate on the floor, and not just because i still tried to get the chicken now it was on the floor, and not just because she wopped me one with the plate.

She is still very upset.

I know this because she barely spoke to me when she threw my supper at me.

I know this because when i tried to climb on her for our Sunday afternoon cuddle, she turned away and started working out scout menus on her laptop.

So I am truly in the dog house and deservedly so.

I wonder if it will have passed by bedtime - I dont want to miss my bedtime biccies.

Yours sadly and repentently,

Bob

Noxious Fumes

Today my Big Pink Blob has been on one! Im not sure what 'On One' means quite but I think its young persons speak for really busy, and going at things non stop.

If it doesnt mean that, then I apologise to the young people and start to worry because now I and Blob have no idea what they have been talking about.

But the long and the short of it is that Blob has finished making Christmas Cards and will be set for sending them out on 1 December, or thereabouts.

Part of making Christmas Cards means Blob sits on the floor and sprays lots of black cards to make a picture on them and gets extremely 'stoned' (which i believe is the right word) on the fumes of the spray. Unfortunately, and I'm sure that she doesnt realise this, she is not the only breathing creature in the house, and because i didn't want to lose the nice warm patch in front of the wood burner i just have to sit and inhale as well.

Of course this is entirely Blobs fault, and nothing to do with the somewhat addictive smell of the spray that i was beginning to enjoy before she decided she'd finished.

Once she had finished, I reckoned it was bed time, but no, not Blob. She insisted on watching TV and playing on the internet. She left a rave review of Nearly King Jimbo on the website, looked up three different versions of chocolate cake and of a lemon polenta cake that had been made by Nigella Yummy Tummy Lawson, as well as steak sandwiches a la Jamie Oliver, which then entailed a search for Ciabatta recipies because she wants all the food at her Birthday Party to be home made.

So after this, and a quick search for Focaccia recipes, she evenutally shut down the damn laptop, wandered upstairs, gave me my biscuits and curled up in our pit.

Never have I been so grateful for bed time.

Bob

Nearly King Jimbo Rocks!

She took her time but the Big Pink Blob has eventually got round to reading Nearly King Jimbo by acclaimed author and illustrating duo, Denise and Andy Hunt.

She didn't mean to leave it so long, but she had to finish another book first, and it was a particuarly nasty book so reading 'Jimbo' in parallel as it were, would have tarnished the experience.

Any how, today Blob sat on the sofa before she went to Cubs and finished the book. She then demonstrated a strange mixture of emotions:

• Sad because she had finished the book (Blob is always sad when she finishes books).
• Elated because she had found the Nearly King Jimbo experience absolutely fantastic.
• Concerned because she is worried incase this is the first and last of many potential adventures.

The aforementioned acclaimed author with whom Blob is acquainted, suggested that she may create a yearly annual of what has gone on in her life from next year but Blob would like to be the first of potentially many fans to say, "No to annuals, and Yes to further adventures."

She is waiting to read the following for starters:

Nearly King Jimbo and the Health and Safety Inspection
Nearly King Jimbo and the Nearly Royal Wedding
Nearly King Jimbo and the missing Christmas Tree
Nearly King Jimbo and the Porn Star
and
Nearly King Jimbo and the Temple of Doom

Actually you can probably strike the last two, one of them was blatently nicked from Steven Spielberg and the other was just perverted but thats Blob for you because its getting late and she hasn't had any cake today.

Anyway, Blob wants it stated for the record that she loves Nearly King Jimbo and thinks there should be more. She is now considering sending the book to Alison, or perhaps she should just bully her into buying her own copy?

She would also like it stated that cake, as referred to in the phrase 'hasn't had any cake today' means exactly that, 'cake'.

Bob

Eureka

Eureka is apparently what you say when understanding dawns, and apparently it can dawn very quickly. This is particularly true in the case of Archimedes who had no sooner lowered his bottom into a hot bubble bath, when he jumped out again and shouted "Eureka" at the top of his voice. This was no doubt because it had come to him in a flash that the water was too hot, but he was an ancient greek which means he was extremely old, and one cannot expect intellect to be at its peak when you are ancient.

Anyway, having struggled and scribed like a maniac over the last three weeks, Blob has finally written her Christmas Poem. She wrote reams and reams and verses and verses and at about 12.30, Sunday last she put her pen down, sighed with relief and said,

"Thank gawd for that! Its a bit forced and not particularly funny, but at this late stage it will have to do."

Now knowing what i know about my Big Pink Blob, "It will have to do" does not sit easily.

So off she trots into the kitchen, makes herself a cuppa, and suddenly she stops dead in her tracks, puts down her tea and shouts, "Oh £$&*% ^&* ("£)!*&$^ "£$%() &*^%£^&$( &*)&£%" 78*^E£*)"(apparently this translates to "Eureka" in ancient Greek), jumped in front of the Laptop and thrashed the keys solidly for 2 hours.

It is now done. Blob is happy and Christmas will go ahead as scheduled.

Thank you Archimedes!

Bob

Remember Remember ...

For a great big ugly (actually strike ugly) brute of a Cat, which is what I am and I know this because the great big pink blob who looks after me tells me so, I am, to be honest, being a bit of a big girls blouse tonight.

Its like a war zone outside and I have found a shabby furry cushion on the sofa next to Blob who is smothering me with lots of insufferable platitudes to try and make me feel better.

She even took it upon herself to clean the eye bogies off my face and pick bits of fluff off my nose.

Normally I would have high tailed it out of here in disgust and in keeping with my usual demeanour of bad tempered intolerance, but like I said, its a war zone outside and if feeling safe and warm comes with the price tag of putting up with smothering mothering and having to grant cursory interest in whatever Blob is writing in her book, then Ill pay it!

At the moment Blob is trying to solve the problem of a niece that refuses to read. If reading wasn't that important then I suspect Blob wouldn't be worried, but because not reading anything has now begun to affect her nieces vocabulary and her grades are beginning to slip.

Now Blob's niece who we will refer to as Amber (mainly I believe because that is her name) is a bright little cookie has just decided that she doesn't like reading.

Blob is working on the principle that Amber just hasn't found the right book yet. She is now examining her bookshelves to find something that may stimulate her reading juices as it were.

So far she has 'The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents', this is a Terry Pratchett book for younger readers, but Blob enjoyed it. She is desperately looking for the first in the Artemis Fowl books by Eoin Colfer and has found another Eoin Colfer book called the Supernaturalists which is not sure about but is willing to give it a shot. She is also going to try a couple of her old paperbacks by E. Nesbit, "The WouldbeGoods" and "The Treasure Seekers." She also has somewhere some Roger McGough poetry books.

She's not sure whether to try some adult books, like the Adventures of Dougal by Eric Thompson, which is actually only an adult book for adults who just haven't realised it yet.

However, what she doesn't want to do is overload her niece or bully her so she may just give her a few with the one rule. She must read 30 pages, properly, before putting it down and saying she doesn't like it.

She runs a risk of this all ending in tears, but because she couldn't imagine a world without books, she is going to risk it.

Its still banging outside and by all accounts it will be worse tomorrow - looks like another night on the sofa feigning interest in Blob.

I wouldn't mind so much but I know full well that the fireworks will now continue every weekend until Christmas.

I sometimes think i was born to suffer!

Bob

Torture no less!

Things are going from bad to worse as we approach Xmas!

Blob hasn't yet written her annual ode and although has a couple of ideas, is much preferring to bake and nick the chocolates out of the drawers of the advent calendar that she made for her niece.

This makes her short tempered, and this combined with the two days of not inconsequential stomach pain she incurred earlier in the week has made my life of comparative leisure somewhat fraught.

Firstly there is a huge dollop of nail varnish on my tail. I have no idea how it got there. Apparently I am not supposed to a) climb on to laps, or b) wag my tail whilst Blob is attempting to paint her nails, but I don't even pretend to know what that had to do with it. But now every time she tries to remove said dollop, we have a bit of a ruck because it will apparently involve removal of hair.

Secondly, she has brought me a toy that she thinks I'm going to play with. I ask you, I have no problems chasing about after a necklace, some dead leaves, shoe laces or even stockinged feet, but when she produces a purple mouse on a stick with nearly a metre of tail and a bell in it, I ran a mile. It was terrifying. She has since then, surgically removed the bell and the stick, but I'm still not playing.

Thirdly, its coming up FireWorks weekend. That means I get to cower (and I am by nature not a cowering beastie) beneath the duvet or the cushions or if I get really lucky Blob herself as she slobs out in front of the telly. It also means that I can't go outside during the hours of darkness. Grounded? Me? I ask you. Its just not dignified.

So here I am, hiding from the long purple toy and under house arrest because of the FireWorks, and daubed cruelly with Nail Varnish.

And what sympathy do I get?

"At least its not pink!" she says cheerily, then she waves that damn toy in my face.

Like I said, "Torture!"

Bob