from Vladimir, Cutting Edge Felinotherapist
I am so angry I could spit! Or something.
The woman who feeds me has been mucking around with my hard-hitting blog theme and turned me into something insipid.
She said my design was broke. They don't break.
And I want my black back!
She says she's too tired to try and fix it now - what utter rot - the night has just begun.
It better …
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There's life in the old boy yet! (Although not much in this rat).
I thought the woman who feeds me would be pleased with this irrefutable evidence of my keen observance of housecat duties. But you know how it is with people, they're unpredictable.
Before I go any further I make a formal apology to Cat-the-Rat and Starsky over at …
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Sometimes I feel my age.
It's all the brain really, in the little Poirotien grey cells. It's not about senior moments and little accidents (cats get them too) it's about the relevance of things to my daily life. My response to tragedy is no longer an impassioned howl to the heavens on the bloody blatant injustice of it all, but rather a …
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