Busy Doing Nothing...!

Today Blob planned to do nothing! She intended to laze about on the sofa and watch dvd's and eat hot cross buns all day.

As a kind considerate pussy (which is what I aspire to be at all times - not!!) I felt it my duty to get her moving!

I noticed her looking suspiciously at a little pool of blood on the floor when she came into the living room but it took her til after a large fry up to actually make moves to clear it up.

It was at this point I made her move the sofa, the rug, empty three compartments of her shelves and pull her shelf unit out so I could catch the mouse that I had mauled last night and then let go.

She was somewhat hot and sweaty when she finished (It was particularly hot today!) I then added to her workout by trying to mutliate the mouse on her lap and she then had to scoop the pair of us up and throw us outside. She had to do this three times (I bet she regrets putting that cat flap in!)

She said that I would never attain enlightenment if I kept on killing mice. I said 'Pot calling the kettle black',(I saw the black pudding and sausages she scoffed for breakfast!)and anyway, it is her that is stopping my meat rations - she deserves to suffer!

Will be out on the prowl again later, wonder what I should let go in the house tonight?!

Bob

Its an outrage!

This week, Blob decided to inflict further torture on me.
She refused me my 20 minutes in the bathroom basin in the morning and forced me to drink out of some weird contraption that she refers to as a drinking fountain.
She is also being particularly cunning about it.

• She offers me treat biscuits but only if i eat them off her hand which is right next to the fountain.


• She feeds me in a little bowl which is attached to the fountain.

Basically what this means is that although i hate it and absolutely refuse to go near it, I have no choice. And whilst I am being forced to be near it, I may as well have a little sip.
I try to not go near it when she is watching because I dont want her to think that she's won, but apparently she found my hair in the filter when she cleaned it which means she knows that I have succumed!

The second torture this week consists of a tub of something smelly under the table, not too far from my new drinking fountain, that farts continually. Blob refers to it as her homebrew! It is supposed to be wine in the making, but lets face it, it smells nothing like wine. She thinks she's going to drink it in about four weeks! (I have so got to be there to watch that!).

I think that her reaction when drinking that will link karmically to all the misery she put me through with the drinking fountain.

Bob

George and Henry

Today Blob went to a family 'do'. Apparently this means she went to Steyning in Sussex, ate loads, was polite, ate more and remained polite. She also took the opportunity to pop in and visit George and Henry who live at Godmother Jacky's house.

I knew this because when she got back she reeked of other cat and if she had not been so late for my dinner, I would have had serious words. George and Henry are apparently smaller than me (lets face it, thats not particularly difficult)and a little more delicate (not hard either!) but they are both happy healthy cats who sleep a lot.

They are brothers and have been together all their lives - heres a picture of their happy togetherness. If the truth be told there is a certain amount of sibling rivalry which you cannot see from this photo, but Henry takes an inordinate amount of pleasure in sneaking up and jumping on George. George on the other hand has his mind on other things. He has in fact decided to lose a lot of weight ...

"Are you eating anything?" asks Blob

"Of course" says George, "But i dont eat a lot or Ill get fat"

"And that would be a problem, why?" asks Blob

"The agencies won't take me if I'm fat"

"Agencies??"

"Model Agencies" says George.

"Model Agencies?" says Blob

"Yes!" says George "If you carry any excess weight you cant be a super model"

"You're going to be a super model? Why on earth would you want to do that?"

"I'd be really good as a super model" says George, "Obviously!"

"Obviously?"

"Oh yes" Said George, "I take great photos, and I'm a natural for the Cat Walk!"

Jacky is not so sure about the supermodel thing - she reckons that there might be something wrong with George, other than a recent move from Cornwall and a Brother that keeps on jumping on him, so Blob said she would ask Hen Keeper Illustrator Andy who is also a vet in his spare time if there are anyother reasons for cats getting thin but still being happy and active and making bad cat puns other than being a supermodel.

So Hen Keeper Illustrator Andy who is also a vet in his spare time, over to you!

Bob

Uncle Bob Branching Out!

I'm now being asked for beauty tips! Only natural really - when you look as good as me people are bound to be curious!

Dear Tangoed in Mote Park,

There is no shame in changing colour. Blob's been every shade of blonde and red since I've known her.

Don't hide your head in shame, orange is a warm and outgoing colour and you are a warm and outgoing chicken.

I have taken many chickens to dinner, and its not the colour of their feathers that interests me, its whats inside (dark or white meat mainly)!

Yours in anticipation, Uncle Bob.

More Uncle Bob!

Dear Undusted from Maidstone,

Before trying it on, you must perfect the 'walking backwards whilst concentrating intently on something in front of you. This is known as 'redirection', a technique employed by many illusionists of note. Hen Keeper Andy will then not realise that you are actually backing towards the dust bath because he will be distracted by what you are concentrating on.

Once you reach the dust bath, then feel free to look surprised as you bathe. This means that if you are caught, you can genuinely look shocked and say 'Gosh, I wonder how I ended up here!'

Who could be offended at a genuine mistake that could have been made by anyone, especially ladies of a certain age!

Cunningly yours, Uncle Bob.

Agony Uncle

It appears that my wisdom is so well appreciated, that Henry, (that is Blobs Godmother Jacky's cat) has an abundance of questions. I have therefore decided that I must be a veritable Claire Rayner. (For anyone that doesnt know, she is an agony aunt which means she doles out helpful advice willy nilly to anyone that wants it.)

Because I am very much of the masculine persuasion, I am going to be Bob, the Agony Uncle.

I have perused an assortment of Agony Uncle columns and have decided that the best answers are the ones where the question isn't listed, something like this:

Dear Depressed from Swansea, I think you have answered your own question. How about meatballs? Yours, Uncle Bob.

Dear Woeful from Chelmsford, You are quite right, that sounds very painful. If the ointment isnt working, I would suggest going back to your GP and not rubbing it with margarine and balsamic vinegar. Yours, Uncle Bob.

You see, its easy, and so I am now officially offering my Agony Uncle services to all and sundry, but mostly to Henry.

So here goes my first ever official Agony Uncle effort.

Dear Damp and Cross from Shoreham, In my extensive experience, Blobs dont actually aim the hose at you as long as you steer clear of newly dug earth and green growing things. Find a dry, sandy corner which isnt near, on or under anything green and hold your ground. If that doesnt work, then get some wet look hair gel and roll with the punches! Yours, Uncle Bob.

I could get good at this!

Bob

Not a Litter Tray

Apparently the litter tray that my Blob built me is not a litter tray.

She was somewhat miffed that I thought so!

There was shouting and swearing and then there was patrolling the litter tray perimetre.

Then there was the dribbling of creosote on the litter tray frame to ensure I could not cross the borders.

Finally there was glaring and sulking. (That was both of us!)

So apart from the synchronised sulking and glaring (which was quite funny!) it has not been a good day.

Bob!