I thought that humans only went a bit funny over that Christmas thing but I was wrong. I had forgotten that last year was quiet as owner went swanning off somewhere on New Years Eve and didn’t reappear until half way through the following day, leaving me to sleep peacefully in his freshly laundered underwear.
This afternoon owner has been carefully decanting that funny purpely liquid gin stuff which fascinated me so much when he made it in September.
He says it is made from damsons or something.
This can only mean problems for a small cat and as it is far too dangerous to be out tonight what with all that army ordnance going of in the dark and bottles being thrown at me, not to mention projectile vomit on my fur. I will stay in. My intelligence tells me that this is a wiser move than it might at first seem.
Mustafa Iqbal has decided not to open the kebab shop in town just in case of some unprecedented attack by Chav types, and although weekends mean good pilfering in the gutter outside his place (its quite an art to differentiate between Dona meat and puke in the dark), I am not tempted to investigate tonight.
What’s more I have carefully secreted the carcass of half a duck behind the sofa in the living room. Owner has been looking for it since Christmas day but every time he gets close to finding it I quickly stuff it down the lav for a while. I will devour said carcass later before having a good rest, I’m feeling a bit wiped out anyway. See you later.
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