Dog-Gone-it!!

I can barely bring myself to write this...

My concentration hasn't been too hot today. Frankly, I've been worrying myself sick - which isn't like me as I tend to be more of a "take what life throws at you" kind-of-a-kittie. However, today would have sent any 'feline with feeling' scurrying up the nearest tree, I reckon.

So why am I so moody? Well, I found out where Maw and Paw went this afternoon. They were trying to keep it secret but I checked her Netbook when they left and the latest website she'd looked up was oh...this is really hard for me to say...The Dddddddddog Trust. The only conclusion I can come to is that they're thinking of getting a puppy!!! Yes, my cat pals out there, this is dire straits indeed....

I stayed in all afternoon contemplating their return and had actually packed my knapsack with a view to fleeing the nest (I could live on titbits from KFC and maybe hang out in Sophia's home for a bit I reckoned).  Still, they returned at 5pm minus any canine accoutrement. Obviously they've done the Dog v Cat bit and the cat (as always, hee, hee) wins. Well, let's face it, we're so much cuter, independent and er...better at catching mice?

Anyhows, CHEERS!! my feline friends. Victory is ours!!

Milt the truely Magnificient xx

PS No offence, like, Frankie and Hobbs!

Take Away Food is Heaven!

'Take that...and that...and feast your face on this...'

That's me getting my own back on Fatboy for stealing my grub. Just in my dreams but one day our punch-up will become a reality (we're both Weegie cats after all). Fatboy's still denying his crime but I reckon his MASSIVE stomach is proof enough.

He might get a temporary satisfaction from consuming my Hills chicken-encrusted delicacies but in the long run it really doesn't do him any favours. For instance, there's no-way he's gonna chase me up a tree. He tries but usually pathetically plops back down on the grass at the first attempt. I then like to nimbly dance around the branches a bit, baiting him. Oh...it feels good to be a lithe, winsome creature (something Muttie might want to have a wee think about!) 

So anyhows, she's spending a lot more time at home these days, which is really getting to me. When she was working full-time I could kid her on I was an athletic individual who spent his days surveying his territory and berating any birds who came within an inch of our garden. Now, she sees me sleeping quite a bit...er... rather a lot, actually.

And on the subject of sleep, I got NONE last night. Why? I hear you ask. Well, the answer is, the silly bint - or Muttie as she likes to be known - went to bed early last night with Julie Walters' autobiography. She laughed and laughed and then started giving it ZZZzzzzzzzzz's. Lil' ol' me meanwhile was outside and she'd shut all the windows! 

However, all was not lost. Around 1am I spotted the 'hot' neighbourhood cat Sophia stalking past the flat. I decided to follow her. She nipped past 'The Wilderness', a brown, rather uninspiring patch of ground, optimistically referred to by Muttie as 'My Garden' and headed towards the busy main road. I remained in pursuit altho it wasn't easy. At least on two occasions I had to conceal myself behind car tyres and at one point ended up pretending I was part of a Lidl dustbin. Still, it was worth it cos Sophia reached her destination and in doing so I experienced a revelation - there really is Manna from Heaven!! Or rather, chicken scraps from Kentucky Fried Chicken :). In order to obtain this scrummy grub apparently all a cat has to do is sit there looking cute and doleful. Well, with my looks I could hardly fail to melt the hearts of the generous staff.

The only problem was having to disguise my fried-breadcrumbed-coated whiskers from the bleary-eyed one the following day...but then, those human eye-bags do tend to miss a multitude of sins...

Milt the marauder xx

'ow's this for a convoluted Yoga pose...'

Okay, okay...I'm willing to admit Paw has a bit of wit.

For the last fortnight me and Muttie have been staying with Paw in the incredibly quiet commuter village of Beith in Ayrshire. For Muttie this is quite difficult as she loves the noisy diversions of the Weegie (Glasgow, for all the American followers out there).

Anyhows, Muttie admits Beith has a 'cracking' library and loves when she wakes up and can't hear any sirens (honestly, in her place, if it ain't the cops, it's the ambulance - who needs an alarm clock?!).

So anyways, since decanting there I've befriended another two pussys. Was a bit bizarre 'cos at first this cute eight-month-old lil' kittie approached me. Honestly, it was like lookin' in a mirror 'cept her face was all black. The next day, lo and behold, her mother approached and she was identical! Was bizarre in the extreme. Anyhows, at one point we three black and white pussies gathered together in the back of Paw's garden (Macbeth anyone?)

"Quick, quick," Paw hollered to the Muttie woman.

"Whhhhhhhat?" the prone-to-Bulimic-one spluttered, raising her head from the depths of the biscuit tin where she'd scoffed the third leg of a double chocolate Kit Kat and which, in the interests of division, belonged to PAW!

"You gotta see this," Paw coo'd, not realising, for one minute, Muttie had already started on his share of the double-chocolate Kit Kat.

Brushing the tell-tale brown crumbs from her striped cardi Muttie ventured towards the kitchen window.

"Look!" Paw exclaimed, sizing the three of us black-and-white cats in one. "It's a MILTitude of cats!!"

There ensued a loud moan from Muttie whenceforth she returned to the biscuit tin and shoved the fourth leg of KitKat in her gub.

"Psychologically, it's mine by right," she groaned.

Fatboy V Muttie. Who won?

Does anyone have the phone number for the RSPCA?

Phew, wot a weekend that was.

I'm knackered and looking forward to a nine hour kip. Let me tell you, Human Watching is exhausting. I was babysitting Auntie Jennifer and Uncle Steven this weekend. They came all the way up from Harrowgate, Yorkshire just to see me.

After a spot of vintage clothes shopping (Muttie and Auntie Jennifer) and dinner at the pasta-tastic Sartis, the four of them returned to the flat. Maw wisely decanted to Paw's. My job was then to ensure Auntie Jennifer and Uncle Steven quietly sipped the bottle of red wine I'd kindly got Muttie to buy them and didn't stay up all night watching MTV(you know what these young 'uns are like).

So anyways, Rioja-wise - two bottles. MTV - 'til bleeding 3am!

However, all was not lost. It's not exactly, er, 'taxing' babysitting Auntie Jennifer. She's gorgeous! Long black, curly hair, curvey and VERY Catherine Zeta Jones. Uncle Steven could probably be described as Darcy-like - tall, dark and brooding (although he was a right big softy with me, hee, hee).

However, they did admit the neighbourhood cat, Fatboy, TWICE prior to my awakening. As usual, he'd scoffed a fair percentage of my grub while I lay in somnolance heaven. In my more introspective moments I sometimes wonder if Fatboy just befriends me so he can scoff my chicken-encrusted Hill's gourmet delicacies.

Muttie thought she'd fooled him the other day by hiding my food bowl everytime the window is open so he can't just come in and scoff my grub willy-nilly. Fatboy, however, appears to have the upperhand on cunning. Muttie was sprawled on the couch reading on Sunday when she heard this scratching noise coming from the kitchen. Dashing through she encountered Fatboy with his head stuck in the large bag under the kitchen table which contains my grub. He'd clawed, or bitten, a hole through the plastic and his head was wedged inside happily munching away and, fatally on his part, oblivious to an irate Muttie standing right behind him.

What happened next was, frankly, too painful for any cat to have to witness...

The Truth is out there....

"Absolutely, NO WAY!!" the Big M declared, in her usual resolute fashion.

     Oh, I think you'll find 'way.'

     "We are absolutely not wasting this cheque for $25 on a mountain of Dreamies." (treats to you and me)    
     This is most unfair, of course. The reason she has that bleeding cheque in the first place is 'cos she prostituted a 'cute' photo of me to a woman's magazine (which, at this stage shall remain nameless, altho when the photos are out obviously I'll paste it up for you to drool over). She then went on to make up this story to the journalist about me being all lovey-dovey and a devoted pet. Gads, if only they knew the half of it...

     In terms of 'veritas' I'd say the Muttie woman is on a very sticky wicket...

It's Snow Joke Living Like This

Miooooow.

     Right, I've finally come out the huff. What with being abandoned in kennels and being forced to stay indoors cos of all that white stuff humans refer to as 'snow,' I've really had quite a time of it.
     The worm - or rather the weather - had turned and all last week I was darting about the back gardens of Beith, leaping across hut roofs, dancing on window sills and sticking my head down a big hole in Paw's garden I've discovered which, intriguingly, has water at the bottom. It's such good fun altho I'm not sure Muttie shares my passion. She always has this despairing look on her old pus everytime I enter through the back door at the end of the day with my funny, mud-encrusted ears.
     As usual I'm not very pleased with her right now. She's just returned from Sweden with two writing implemements she refers to as 'Milton pens.' That's because they are a replica of moi - two plastic black/white cats which double as a biro. She thinks this is funny. I find it downright insulting. Or at least I did until I remembered that the other week there someone made a Barbie doll to look like JK Rowling. Had they heard of me in Sweden, I mused? I'd no idea, though I'm not particularly suprised that my blog has reached international waters. Guess it was only a matter of time.
     Another reason I'm not happy with the Muttie woman is her behaviour last week. She attempted to turn me into a drug addict. Yes, you heard right.
    She came home from town grinning, with a cloth mouse which smelled distinctly 'herby.' She then proceeded to throw it into the centre of the sitting room, then stare at me for several long minutes in an expectant fashion. There ensued a lengthy stalemate during which I stared at the cloth mouse and, in a rather unanimated fashion, it stared back at me.
     "Well??" Muttie said, with a distinctly impatient air.
     Bemused, and justifiably in need of a treat, I gave her one of my 'I can only just tolerate you' looks.
     "Oh come on Milt, give me a triple axis or a double back flip. Or even take the blinds three at a time. I want to see you go doolally."
     It was at that point I realised she was obviously mistaking me for a performing seal. My sympathy for her simple state knew no bounds.
     In the end, of course, she gave up and stomped off, muttering on and on about someone - or something - being "a total waste of fur."
     My credibility intact, I went off to source that watering hole. I'm sure it's the home of a yummy big mole.

Christmas Calamity

This is my scarey photo where I'm about to pounce on you...

But anyways, enough of that. Tell me, what did the white-bearded one bring you this Christmas?

I got a toy cat that farts.

Muttie says I'm being silly and the deep 'pweeeeee' noise is just it purring.  But I'm not convinced. It's a horrible, battery-operated white fluffy thing (that she got second-hand at work BTW).  And let me tell you, I fair got my teeth into it's scraggy tail within minutes of meeting it. Muttie is now thinking twice about getting another kitty in March (hee, hee).  She wants a ginger kitty that she's decided to call Macavity after T S Elliot's poem (she thinks she's dead cultured, but we know best, eh?)

And speaking of which, she ditched me in kennels for six days over Christmas while she and Paw swanned off to Madrid. Her raison d'etre for the trip she said was to go visit Picasso's masterpiece Guernica in the Reina Sophia. Who's she kiddin'? It was an excercise in stuffing her face with tapas and seeing how much Rioca she could pour down her throat in the one go!

Anyhows, I caught a cold in the kennels and I didn't think much of the grub. Not only that but my neighbour was a spoiled fluffy female who miowed constantly. Honestly, I was glad to get home for a good kip. Although that's been a bit of a problem the last couple of days. It's so cold in Glasgow that Muttie has been using me as a hot water bottle. Honestly, we're in bed and I just get comfy at her knees when she wails: "Milt, my feet are frozen." Then she picks me up and planks me on her Pieces of Meat (not the best place to be at the best of times - altho more of a problem in Summer I have to concede).

Does anyone out there want to adopt me?

Miltonian the Magi xxx