Thoughts of a Top Cat

It's pretty rare for me to get the opportunity to write something here so I better get on with it quickly before fatso - I mean, the lovely Biggles - notices that I am here. Hence all the wonderful photos of beautiful moi, which I will explain in full, as I sometimes think Biggles gives a rather distorted view of my lifestyle, having had a chance to scan back over some of his entries, which are hardly mature.

First of all, the laundry basket is not HIS!! Ok? I can sit on it if I want, too. Well, he sits on it most but only because he is top cat, well I let him think he is. He has this very irritating habit, petty and pathetic really, of pretending that he just has to sit on a particular bit of grass or path where I am quietly lying or having a wash and chasing me off for no reason at all. Well, of course, I can outrun him any time but it is so petty and tedious but I put up with it for the greater good, and actually we do get on pretty well, even though he is very needy and always needs stroking and reassuring either from me or the humans.

Yes, I do prefer to live upstairs and to sleep on a particular part of a bed, I choose the foot end so as not to disturb the humans; here you can see me on my current favourite place at the foot of my mummy's bed (even though she has disappeared again!! oh dear, this is very hard for a cat, you know, to have your mummy abandon you so very often). Certainly, I do need a very good sit on my daddy and a very very good cuddle at some point each day and evening, and I tell him in no uncertain terms. As you can see from these rather lovely photos of me, I like to sit on him, sleep on him and also sometimes bath, scratch etc etc, as long as he doesn't figit too much. I do sometimes sit on him downstairs but I don't purr there in case the midget, Gwen - vile little verminous beast that she is - gets any funny ideas. I don't see why I am tortured every night by being taken down to the play room, it is a cat's right to choose, and I choose to sleep upstairs; it is an affront to my feline rights to remove me and to place me down stairs. If you read this, please help me against this terrible cruelty I suffer every evening.

I also felt it was about time I showed my full beauty to you all. I am not a manky, runty, baldy, half bonkers runt-of-litter bit of mog, but a very fine example of the British Short Hair with very unusual markings. I am also extremely loving.

Where does my name come from you ask? My official name is Tosca, and I am named after the great Puccini opera heroine who probably looked alot like me. My dad added "Runt" on when he heard the name my mummy gave me; I suffer this. But my mummy calls me "nu-nu" and that is very nice. So, I have come to accept all the names, even Runty, sigh.

I also want to say a word about my personal drinking habits, not that I should have to. I prefer running water it tastes so much nicer, why should I accept anything else? Sometimes, I have to wait for hours and hours and hours for a proper drinkand then I go nearly crazy!!! And then I need several, but why should I drink from nasty dank, manky bowls? Would you? Just because the others have no taste. As for my supposed "flabby bits", they are not flabby bits but part of a lady's construction to accommodate a widening of those regions should one be fortunate enough to bring forth the next generation, just because the midgittt doesn't have them under her long, thick, lush fur is irrelevant.

Finally, I must address certain areas of character assassination. First, my bladder habits; has anything happened in recent months? Has anything? No!! Enough said; just the occasional vom of my breakfast here and there. You see, I am of Egyptian decent, as you can see in the photos, and had I been able to live in a beautiful dry warm climate that meets my needs, with a stream of gentle running water nearby there would never have been any problems. But I am a displaced feline and must suffer in this dank foreign land.

As to my tail. It is not my tail!!!! It is an evil being with a mind of its own that continually provokes me. I can only take so much provokation before I must retaliate, and despite its best efforts to escape my clutches, I will catch it, oh yes, and then I punish it by biting it and biting it hard, let me tell you, and it then hurts me!!!!!!!! This is not a split off part of me, as some have said!!!!! Nor is it self-mutilation!!! It is bad, it is evil and it will never ever ever gain victory over me!!!!!!! I am on my guard!!!!! I will prevail!!!!!!!

Oh, I am most terribly sorry about that. I am alright now.

As for Biggles. Look, he's actually a pretty good natured sort of chap on the whole but he does have his ways, and if you will forgive the pun, he likes to throw his weight around a bit. He has this idea that because we let him be Top Cat largely because he's too stupid to take orders from anyone else, he actually runs things. Well, never mind, I don't want to criticise him too much as he is, on the whole, a pretty good chap despite his silly ideas about being tough. And I would certainly never accuse him of cowardice.

Actually, I need a drink, yes a drink, a drink, now now now, and then I can go back to sleep.