A Heavy Heart

It's with a heavy heart that I write to inform anyone who has been reading the blog that our beautiful Sharlie passed away.  She was almost 15 and was loved to bits.  There will never be another cat quite like her.  She's stolen a piece of my heart that will never heal.  Her "sister" Willow has been so sad.  We thankfully rescued another Siamese 18 months ago and he has been a great comfort to her and us.


I will miss that little brown faced ninya forever

These things are sent to try me

Things had been going so well. Wiffle was generally submissive and with Mr.Boofers on this bridge I was getting poll position in the lap stakes.

That's when "it" arrived. Its name is Millie. It runs around all the time, and climbs over everything. It can't miaow. It goes Maaaaaaaaaa, half the time it does not even open it's mouth when making noises. After an initial challenge it has submitted. But it will never be an aid to the cause. It's not really a proper cat is my conclusion. Evil missions can not afford simpletons on board. I have world domination to plan.

The humans fuss over the noisy article, and it's steal my training equipment, such as the feather stick. Worse still the Wimble has decided to befriend it. I will not have dissension in the ranks. Divide and conquer is my motto. Therefore if the Wizzle dares to enter the same room as Miffle (whatever) I have punished her. The humans really need to get with the program. I was chastised for my leadership techniques. I have demonstrated my authority with some random night time killing cries. The humans have had 3 sleepless nights now. They can't take much more, they will break soon.

Mr.Boofers

I've been a little off my game. But operations have now recently been resumed.

Mr.Boofers is no longer in Wales, the furless ones have told me he has gone to Rainbow bridge. This is where we go when our bodies get old and tired and we wait for the furless ones. I asked if I could go and visit him and the furless mother said absolutely not.

It's not the same without him. There is no smell of his tail, or any of his dinner to steal. The furless mother's mother "Nanny" is very sad still.

Operational news: we've been busy. 2 of the 6 grinning imps have been destroyed. Wimble's been warming them up for me, it gives me more time to formulate the UK side of the evil plan.

The infidels from the corner cottage are now increased in number. The furless mother encourages thes stinking furballs much to my chargrin. We have Dolly the plank which I have spoken about, and Twoggy the fluff ball. I will admit he smells good, but I still don't want it in my house. The furless mother feeds him MY dentabits. To teach her a lesson I have regurgitated dinner on the quilt, loudly killed the grinning imp in the middle of the night and scuffed one of Wiffle's poos out of the tray onto the clean washing. I hate to have to resort to this, but it's tough love time. Anyway, now we have infidel No.3, Lady. Lady is white all over and mad as a box of frogs. This cat will not leave me alone. I have boxed her nose and hissed at her but she still wants to kiss me. Why oh Why am I surrounded by these simpletons?

Holiday :)

The simple one and I have been on holiday! The furless ones took us to Mr.Boofers house. Mr.Boofers smelled wonderful as always. He is old now, but so wise. Unlike Wimble who wedged herself down the side of the desk for an afternoon. The furless ones left his with the Nanny and Bampi for 2 weeks. It was great, Bampi treated us to mouse with the long tail training all day.

Although it was a wonderful holiday on the day we went back something awful happened. And I am asking for a call to arms. A gap tooth hound named Sensi tried to eat Mr.Boofers. Luckily Boofers skillfully got to the top of a tree away from the slathering tool of a dog. The dog's furless slaves are quite clearly cretins and did nothing to alert Bampi of this. Mr.Boofers was trapped in the tree for 2 and a half hours. I eyed the hound through the window. It looked at me with what can only be described as a vacant expression. However dumb this animal is a mennace. He must be taught a lesson.

We are now back at base camp, and the new duck is well and truely broken in. The numpty Dolly is officially scared of both of us. How chicken is she? She is scared of wimble! Anyway Willow has been breaking in the Bee and the snake. I have been supervising her training from the warmth of the radiator bed. I am not sure what a radiator is but it's warm, and that's good enough for me.

The furless ones invited some other furless ones over, I have seen them before. They brought a thing with them. The furless mother refered to it as a dog, but it was unrecognisable as a dog to me. This chew-owa (whatever) was of no consequence to me, I let it be. The furless mother's friend seemed worried I would eat it (Sophia it was called). puuurrlllease, why would I catch my own food? That's what the furless ones are for. I am the pack leader here!

Willow - The padawan learner!

My initial thoughts on the simpleton Willow have not been 100% correct. I felt the wiff was not for turning. However after months of intense training she is at last showing some promise. Her "kickies" have become less comic and her quest to chew is borderline impressive. SO far she has munched upon the furless mother's bag and pyjamas. The furless fathers books and papers. And a pillow. Her "mouse with the long tail" training is going well.

Therefore today I allowed her to torture the grinning imp. She did well for her first time. Although I have commented that the backward and forward roles add nothing to her technique and look ridiculous. I batted her head to let her know exactly when she was making a show of herself. The imp appears at bed-time each night. He's not looking too good these days. This gives me great satisfaction.

The infidel Dolly is exactly as I suspected, an imbecile. A few days ago it got itself worked up into a hissing frenzy as it's own reflection. Not just once, but 7 times. I think it might actually not have a brain at all. And don't get me started on it's personal hygiene.

So the morning waking plans for the furless ones have progressed well. I march along the head of the bed to signal to them to get up, and Willow sounds the knockers on the drawers to make sure they are fully awake. We have been chastised, but the furless ones are starting to realise who is in charge. Evil Fred will be proud. Over and out.

A New Infidel

After 1 year of breaking in the infidel Willow, I am now pleased to announce she has been re-named Pillow. She makes a nice comfy sleeping option. She still stinks. And I still have to remind her who is boss.

The gingerbread man is still in hiding. I know where now, but am unable to liberate it. The furless mother insists he must be kept to a minimum due to his insides coming out. How am I meant to full break the creature if she gives it refuge. I have no time to wait for this grining imp to re-appear and I have begun breaking in the new duck.

I have bigger fish to fry. A new infidel has infiltrated our garden. This one does not come in the house often. It's clearly an idiot. I have warned it off a few times but it keeps coming back. It's wearing a pink collar now, I have mocked it. The furless humans coo over this dollup of lard calling her Dolly. I have tortured the duck in front of her to show my dominance but it does not understand, probably was dropped on it's head as a kitten. Why do the furless ones encourage it so? Don't they know it will end in tears, dippy's (what-ever!) not mine.

The insolent creature left has withheld my tortures, and it taunts me still with it's grinning. You would think after the many puncture wounds, slinging and wimble stench it would wain. But no. I tortured him until 4 am Friday, I believe it was close to breaking but the furless ones have given him exile in the drawers by the bed.

To show my disdain I announced the tortuing of the bug in the early hours of the morning. I was ignored. The furless mother told me to "play" with the bug as Auntie Sofie said the bug was on suicude watch after my obvious preference for the gingerbread man. I am not PLAYING. These creatures are being broken in. Evil Fred in New York understands. He has been covering the east coast.

Wizzle needs potty training. I have informed her it is polite to clean one's area after using the tray but the stinking furball still parades around with the occasional klinker. You see what I have to share a raidator bed with? Still I have gleaned some little victories. I have shredded the furless mothers ribbons on her bath robe and stole the furless father's naan bread last night, Mwwwahhh!