A Pussy Update...

It's about time I gave you all an update on my pussy.

Well my pussy likes sausages. In fact sausages are a real favourite. A bit of beef doesn't go amiss either. Yes, my New Pussy likes just about everything; pork, chicken, left over spaghetti bolognese, mouldy lasagne that's been hiding out in the fridge for a month but he especially likes Miss Cleo's chicken.

I guess Pussy is making up for being famished for a few months but since he's settled in he's started stalking my elderly pussy, Miss Cleo. Well stalking Miss Cleo's food anyway. For the first week or so he was happy to lie spreadeagled, replete on Whiskas, on the downstairs sofa but then he discovered that Miss Cleo has tasty little chicken treats in my study. Well....actually.... she has entire meals of chicken.

Yes, I know that sounds overly generous for a cat - but how the hell was I to know I would inherit the world's only cat with colitis?

It's just not fair! Not only have I been wiping small boy's botties for years but I have a cat with no bowel control. Once, when it was really bad out of desperation I put a Pampers nappy on her but unfortunately one of the neighbours reported me for cruelty. Personally, I thought I was being kind - isn't it bad enough cleaning your derriere on a daily basis without having to get your paws muddy in the back garden or soiling your owners shag pile? Besides, I think Miss Cleo looked kinda cute in her nappy. Although it was probably the bonnet that gave her the real street cred.







Yep, anyway I discovered a while back that the key to avoiding an "Emergency Carpet Situation" was a diet of chicken. The trouble is my new pussy now thinks he should be getting chicken for every meal too. No can do; I've already had to give up milk chocolate and switch to cooking chocolate to afford Miss Cleo's rations -if New Pussy has chicken at every meal I'll have to resort to sniffing coco powder for my choccy fix.

Well apart from stalking Miss Cleo and that little "accident" involving a yellow-like fluid on the carpet in my study, New Pussy has been settling in well.

Apart from the flatulence problem.

Yes, New Pussy omits what can only be called "stinkers." Previously my study had aromas which hinted of hidden chocolate bars and candy floss but now it pongs like a sewerage station. Worse, it's not as if I can prepare myself for the onslaught by sticking a peg on my nose cos New Pussy is a silent, stealthy stinker! Yep, one minute I'm happily typing away and the next minute I'm writhing on the floor, hands round my throat and gasping for air. Boy, is he a deadly weapon! In fact only yesterday I found a giant mouse outside the back door which didn't even looked mauled... I reckon New Pussy just broke wind and gassed it to death.

Well anyway the purpose of this post is to announce the winner of my Name My Pussy Competition. There were some strong contenders in the field; Macavity from Mrs A appealed to my innate snobbery as it's a highbrow literature name with provenance, Squibbles from Mr Intrepid was popular with Master Ben and me for being just plain silly (and it was the name that New Pussy responded best to,) Tux from Hillgrandmum was short, sweet and New Pussy kinda looks like he's wearing a tux, Buffy from Master Sy just cos it sounded good and Ewe No (I do!) sneaked in at the last minute with Ballicker. (Had to look it up EweNo - but it was well worth it!)

But the winner is............. (drum rolls, etc, etc....)

....... ME.

Yes, yes I know it's nepotism but I award the prize of a life size pin up of Damien Lewis to me!

And this is the name I came up with....

Bondie.

Well I sort of started calling him Bond and it sort of stuck. But I'm a nick-name type of girl so I had to change it just a little..... Sorry folks!!

Anyway, what can I say? Bondie loves me already and I love Bondie.

Gez, I'm a sucker for animals. Guess I'd better get some more chicken in......

Name My Pussy!

I have a house guest!

Sometime before my two cats Tigga and Tash died earlier this year, I realised that another cat was visiting our house in the dead of night. Sometimes I heard the cat flap bang, a tin fall on the floor and in the morning tell tell footprints on the kitchen work tops. My cats never made a fuss and just let the cat come and go - I guess Tigga and Tash weren't up to fighting and as Miss Cleo, my remaining cat, is as daft as a brush The Interloper found no resistance.

Then one day, I inadvertently locked the cat flap one way only and the next morning there it was - a big, furry, black and white cat who looked extremely well fed and like he might need a course of slimming pills.

Well as it turned out he was a stray because over the summer months my neighbours and I have watched him get thinner and more frightened. A number of times I've approached him and he would run off but last Saturday morning I found him crying outside my door, skinny and ravenous. He'd quit the "I'm gonna be a tough old stray" lark and decided he was gonna move in. Maybe he realised I was now 2 pussys down and there was room at the inn. But I tell you he has taken to my house like a duck to water. Miss Cleo hasn't managed more than a few girlie hisses while he lies resplendent on my sofa and dining out on her chicken. He seems perfectly at home, is easy to lift up and stroke and what's more the children are delighted with their acquisition. Of course, I said I'd never have any more pets but well...I can hardly refuse a poor hungry cat crying on my doorstep just when winter is setting in.....

Well since The Interloper seemed exceptionally well house trained Mr T didn't make too much of an objection. But Houston we now have a problem. Because today The Interloper ventured upstairs for the first time. I was in my study typing and Miss Cleo was sitting at my side and in walks The Interloper. Cleo hisses, I turn round and check there's no sign of an impending cat fight. All is well. I turn back to my PC and then I hear it....

Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.....

Cleo's ears tweak, my ears tweak. I hear it again...

Psssssssssssssssssssssssssss.....

I get up and peer behind the chair in the corner. The Interloper is decorating my carpet - in a major way. It is probably the biggest piss in history; he must have been saving it up since the millennium. In fact, I have time to go to the bathroom, return with the litter tray, put him in it and he is still weeing!

Hmm. This is not good as Mr T has a very sensitive nose. He can tell just by raising his hooter in the air on the doorstop whether or not I've done the laundry. I swear to God his mother trained him at birth to distinguish the difference between Persil, Ariel and Fairy Automatic. Anyway, this is bad news for The Interloper, so I've scrubbed the carpet, covered it with carpet cleaner, scrubbed it again and sprayed it with perfume twice. I've even cooked curry for tea to disguise any remaining odours. In fact I shall be cooking curry all week I think; Balti, Rogan Josh, Korma. In fact anything that has a potent smell; I might even slip in some smoked haddock jut for variety -Anything to save The Interloper from the clutches of the evil Mr T...

Anyway, I need a name for The Interloper. I've been racking my brains and all I can come up with is....

Bond.

Yes, yes. I know that is sooooo predictable for Mrs T. But just think - I get to say all those things I've always wanted to say!

"Bond, will you please please stop pawing my breasts!"

"Bond Baby, you are so silky I can't stop stroking you!"

"Bond Honey, will you stop licking right now it's ruining my concentration."

"Nudge the door closed Bond; I don't want anyone to see us cuddling"

" Don't stop purring Bond, it's driving me crazy!"

Yeah, you get the idea. So I'm thinking The Interloper probably needs another name. So.. anyone want to offer up any suggestions?? I pay well - a kilo of smoked haddock and a slightly burnt Chicken tikka.

Okay So let's have some serious suggestions please or I'll be committed to 15 years of corny Bond jokes!

Here he is;

Do your best folks!