This scratching post may be a revolting colour but it's good fun.
I’m having trouble with my Internet access at this moment. It’s unusual nowadays and may be caused by the new kitten, Ivy. I’m only assuming that because everything else is either the fault of her or the plumber.
Who me? Rubbish,you couldn't get a more innocent soul!
Among her major achievements are managing to use the printer to create blank photocopies at 2 in the morning and switch the bedroom TV on an hour later… Stroking my head, licking my eyelids and patting my shoulder with her paw all have their cute side but it’s hard to see it at four a.m.. The net curtains falling down was allegedly not her fault – Jo saw it happen and she wasn’t in the room – but I reckon the strain she had put on it on other occasions was probably a contributory factor. Papers spread all over the study and the floor of the conservatory were undoubtedly her contribution to sorting our paperwork while eating the corner of a postcard was not helpful to my postcrossing.
I'm really a Black Bear in disguise.
The floor of the kitchen and hall being covered in cat litter gravel was not definitely her fault but Son-who-watches-films denies it was he who chewed through the bag. It was quite amusing in its own way. The bag kept getting lighter as I carried it but it took me six feet of travelling before I was bright enough to realise why and see my trousers and feet turn white like the floor. Having abandoned the packet and my shoes and socks and gone upstairs to change my trousers I was bemused to find trails of gravel on the stairs as I walked back down. It took me a minute to realise that I’d obviously had gravel in the trouser turn-ups as I went upstairs. Ho, ho, very amusing…
It's all lies - don't believe him!
However, I paid her back by taking her for her first injection and examination by the vet. Cruel, aren’t I.
Still enjoying the scratching post
It's such tiring work keeping these humans entertained all the time.
As for the plumber I blame him for the flooded downstairs toilet (after he’d worked on the tap) whilst Partner-who-loves-tea generously blames the old plumbing. We have one of those houses where the plastering was done by a plumber, the electrics by the plasterer and the plumbing by a drunken roofer. But I'm still blaming the kitten for most things...
You're posting me to Long Island - where's that??